Bryan Devonshire
Friday, November 13, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
This weekend the WSOP main event final table went down here in Vegas and obviously the weekend revolved around that. Saturday I wasn’t terribly interested in going early as I knew that it’d be going late, and by the end of the night I ended up not going. I was called in to do commentary at like 2:30am but I was already away from the phone. I tried to get myself in earlier but I just couldn’t crack through the Maven and Hollywood Dave.
Sunday I made a deep run in the Sunday mill, busting somewhere around 90th unfortunately. I’ve been making a lot of deep runs lately, including 13th in the 1k 6max FTOPS last night, good for a bit over $50k this week. I had a wristband for stage seats for the heads up match but lasted long enough in the ftops for them to finish their little heads up duel. My backer also has Joe. I texted him mid match and something like, “Thats right, in the money, y’all can rely on ol Devo to keep y’all afloat.” LOL. They had a good week.
So I got down there in time for the festivities. Obviously, Devo doesn’t show up until the beer is free. I hung out for a while watching picture after interview, and it was an amazing atmosphere. The group of Cada crazies, all young, all having a helluva time. After everything was over we were lead into one of the Palazzo suites, and man was it amazing. Ty Rio! Food, open bar, the bathroom had a bidet, beday, bedae, however you spell it, but I didn’t have the courage to poop and use it. I spent most of my time hanging with Tony Gugiano and Cliff. Somebody announced to be at the ESPNZone at NYNY at 5:15pm for the viewing party.
Woke up the next day late, and I tried to install a new fan onto my laptop. I printed the instructions for how to change it out, didn’t read em, turned off the laptop, got out a screwdriver, and was ready to go to work.
Steps 1-3 talk about turning it off. Step 4: Remove the battery. This is easy.
Step 5: Remove the following components:
a. Hard drive. What?
b. Optical drive. Seriously?
c. Switch cover. What’s that?
d. Keyboard. That’s where I stopped. It goes to: l. System board. I called Fry’s and asked how much to install it, $150, I think I’m just going to buy a desktop.
So I headed down to the ESPNZone and there was a table with a pile of Doyle’s new book and a line. Hmm lot of people here. Turns out that it’s the official viewing party, and I wasn’t on the list. Somebody screwed up in telling everybody to go there. Jonathan Little was there, he wasn’t on the list either, and it took us about 30 minutes to get in. We’re so 2008. If they knew how much face time he was going to get they would have let him in immediately. So that party was fun, after that we headed to Pure for the official club party, had a good time and a blur of an evening.
Tomorrow Jon Little, Hoyt Corkins and myself are going jeeping. Stoked!
Peace and good luck,
Devo
Tags: Doyle's, ESPN Zone, FTOPS, Hollywood Dave, Vegas, WSOP
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Wednesday, November 11, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
On Tuesday Oct 27th I started play for the Caesar’s Classic $5k main event. I continued to play until there were twenty left. Then I went all in on the button with A7 and 18 big blinds. I was called by Glenn Chorny who had the best hand in online poker, the king and the queen, although he only had one flush draw. The flop came Ac3c3d. Js. Th. I got paid just as much as the first person out did, but not as much as 18th place. Sigh.
Exhausted the next morning the plumbers came over to check on a leak in the kitchen. My sadistic girlfriend scheduled them for 7am. I would have been tilted if I had to play a final table a few hours later listening to them use a Sawzall on the drywall. Hell, it tilted me anyways. Turns out the upstairs drain pipe, which sends the laundry room and upstairs bathroom drainage to wherever it goes was leaking. Hooray for a little bit of my upstairs flushed poops ending up in the kitchen wall. So they cut apart the wall, pulled up carpet, pulled linoleum, and left a mess. Good news tho is that KB Homes is paying for it. Just when everything was about settled it turns out that the water heater was leaking too. That KB isn’t paying for. F it all imo. I packed the truck, packed Shelley, and we headed off to the Phish fest, at the same place Coachella is. Here’s some pics.
This was home for 4 nights. For the festival they allowed cars to park on the fields and then people camped out of their cars. Was awesome, way better than having to pack and park like Coachella and every other one I’ve been to.
These were our neighbors from Oklahoma. We made friends with them. They were making tomato, avocato, green onion, and peanut butter sandwiches on wheat using a Grateful Dead glow in the dark frisbee as a cutting board.
Halloween. That’s a man in a loin cloth with a man in a diaper behind him. Just after snapping this pic a woman on a horse walked by behind.
Sunday morning acoustic set.
Drove back Monday, was a great weekend. Super stoked that I got to go to this thing, I was always bummed that I never made it to one before they broke up, was an awesome experience.
This week it’s been all about grinding online. I made a deep run in the FTOPS #1, $215 6 max, taking 5th without ever really having a chance. I just mucked my way to a $37k score basically. Hooray!
Peace and good luck,
Devo
Tags: Caesars Classic, FTOPS, Online Poker, Phish Fest
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Tuesday, October 27, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
Man it’s been a long time since I’ve written. My bad. Things have been insane since I brought the snow to Colorado. Since I couldn’t cross the rockies, due to rain, snow, and highs around 35, I had to turn around and head south back into New Mexico. I left on a Wednesday under mostly cloudy skies and was getting rained on within 5 miles. It didn’t stop until I hit New Mexico and was so gnarly that I had to stop and buy the “warmest gloves you have for sale”.
It rained off and on all the way to my destination of Tesuque Village just north of Santa Fe, New Mexico. I stopped there because that’s where the only person I knew between Colorado and Vegas along the 40 lived. My friend Katy who I’ve known since I moved to Vegas and has made an appearance in this blog moved to this little town, a “magical vortex”, a while back and loves it. She’s managing the Tesuque Village Market, this little hippie store that is a small market, bakery, restaurant, and bar. The night I got there is when this Welsh vintner with vineyards in Colorado was having some function thing. I posted up at the bar, drank organic margaritas, eventually tasted some wine, and had a great time. Very neat special unique corner of the world.
The next day I hauled ass across the Southwest and made it back to Vegas in one piece. Trip complete! Over 10,500 miles, two sets of tires, three oil changes, one roll of duct tape, and three sets of gloves. It was the most amazing journey of my life, and I strongly recommend anybody to take a trip somewhere by yourself. You don’t have to be by yourself the whole time, but the solo traveling really gives you opportunity to clear your head and think about things.
Gladly home, I reluctantly started the process of moving out of the house. I got screwed by roomies in the last few months, and moving out was a super pain. We didn’t even come close to cleaning the place.
Over the weekend Jared and I drove down to LA for our 10 year high school reunion, and that was an interesting experience. We realized quickly that if we buy drinks and stand by the bar we’ll eventually talk to everybody we’re interested in seeing 
. About five years ago one of my best friends, Anthony Casturita, died in a car accident. He went to Iraq, came back, and died on the freeway. On the way to the reunion Jared and I drove by his old apartment and gave like a “rip homie.” We got there, and he showed up. Jared grabs me and drags me in front of Anthony. He’s put on about 50 pounds, I read the nametag, and am like, what? “I thought you were dead?” He laughs and says, “You’re like the 8th person that’s said that already. WTF?” Turns out his cousin, Eric Casturita, is who the victim was, and somehow it circulated through our class that it was Anthony. He was disconnected enough, living in San Pedro, married, etc, that nobody ever talked to him and we all thought he was toast. Pretty awesome news having one of your best friends effectively come back to life.
So back to Vegas, move all week, ugh.. and then head off to Aruba. Shelley and I flew out of Vegas at 6:30am trying to keep our schedules somewhat normal which is a difficult thing to do when flying to the Caribbean from the West coast. About an hour into the flight some dude passed out. The flight attendants get on the intercom and ask if there is a doctor on board. Turns out the dude that passed out was the doctor on board. LOL. Partied all night in Vegas then got on the plane. Fortunately we didn’t have to land in Flagstaff and we made it all the way to Miami. With a 5 hour layover. Not sure how I planned that one but whooops. We took a cab to South Beach, and it was way overrated imo. Maybe we weren’t in the right spot but the strip right on the beach was meh, every place felt the same. The beach and water was sweet though. Shelley packed sand in her shorts all the way back to Aruba. That trip went like this:
Night one: Get there, have a few drinks at the circle bar, which is actually a square, and we re-name it the square bar.
Night two: Welcome party. Vinny Favorito made fun of my Hawaiian shirt. A few of us jumped in the pool. Then we threw the rest of the pros in the pool. Then Phil Helmuth says, “I have $500 each for the first two women that jump in the pool naked.” . . Splash! There was less than 2 seconds from end of his speech to splash. I have no clue how she did it. Then we threw some more people into the pool, Nick and Mike Binger threw everybody else into the pool, and the rest of the night is a blur.
Day three: hung on the beach all day. Got to sleep early.
Day four: Played day 1 of the main event. Couldn’t get anything going really. My table was Spanish only while the hand is not in play. I told them that I speak Spanish somewhere around 15 minutes left in the day. Shelley went out with the Jolly Pirates.
Day five: Day 2. I busted in less than 30 mins. Nothing I could do. I lost some chips to Nick Binger, and he lost them all by the end of the first level. Atta kid. A bunch of us went to lunch, the drinking began, and then five of us took a cab to downtown Oranjestad. We wandered around a bit, Nick, Shelley, and I wanted to drink, Court and Melissa wanted to shop, so we split when we found the bar neighborhood. We started bar hopping, had two beers (they’re 8oz there because they get warm so fast) at the first bar, one at the second, and then at the third, Iguana Joe’s or something like that, I asked the bartender to make us three of what he’s best at. He comes up with these green things in carafes that are delicious. Awesome. Lets have another one.
It’s dark already? Man those things are big. Ok. Working on 2nd. This cigar keeps going out. Why am I talking politics with this dude? What are Nick and Shelley talking about? It seems serious. Yeah let’s go home. Honey let’s go to sleep. … ugh. What time is it? 1:30am. I’m hungry. “I want pizza.” Honey they only have hot dogs here. I’m going to go find food. Want me to bring you something back or you wanna come. “I want pizza. I’ll come.” Where’s my other sandal? There’s only one sandal in this room. “I think you walked back barefoot.” Shocker not the first time. I lost my sandals in St. Maarten. Was barefoot for 24 hours or so. So we walk from the Occidental to the Raddison, I’m barefoot, and we find my other sandal on the concrete by the pool at the Occidental. *shrug*. Sweet! Back to the room, put sandals on, go find hot dogs, she never did find pizza, sleep.
Day 6: Hungover. I’m not so bad, but Shelley’s a wreck. Hang on the beach all day. She eventually comes out around 5pm. VIP booze cruise that night, Cantu’s “most miserable experience.” Stuck on a boat in Aruba with free booze.
Day 7: Business. I meet with all the UB Pros and a bunch of the product design staff for a round table discussion. I really like where things look like they’re going. Meet with Katie my agent/manager/heroine, she goes over the details of the offer I’ve been offered, I renegotiate, go to dinner with Paul Legget and a bunch of other UB peeps, then back for party. That night was the Phil Helmuth penthouse party, and it was insane. I can’t post many of the pics, but here are a few to give you a jist of the flavor:
Day 8: Hungover, final table, beach, rum and coke, Justin Young, beach, closing party award ceremony. Throw people into the pool. Shelley was given warning to change or be thrown in. She got thrown in dress and all. The Dan Band played and were fun. Somebody shot a pic of me walking through the pool with a tray of beer. I put them on the stage for ez access.
Day 9: return. Traveling was just fine. American Airlines gets A+ Awesome. And now Shelley, Ruth, Bobo, and myself are pulling into Laughlin. So I’m going to stop writing. But not post this yet cause I gotta get pics in this thing. Peace!
Peace and good luck,
Devo
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Friday, October 2, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
It’s been a crazy week. Mostly on the stressful side, but lots of excitement to say the least.
I left Santa Fe, NM Thursday morning last week, hauled ass 600 miles back to Las Vegas, and saw my honey for the first time since Legends at the end of August. I then began moving in on Friday, got a good amount moved, enough to start getting my office set up, and got a good night’s sleep to prepare for Saturday.
My brother Jared and I drove down to my Mom’s house in San Dimas, CA, just outside of LA, for our 10 year high school reunion. We got there, checked in, hugged some old friends, and then headed straight to the bar for two shots of jack and two beers. We soon realized that we would see pretty much everybody that we would want to see if we just stood around near the bar. Some things never change I guess.
Shortly after dinner, when they opened it up to the people that didn’t rsvp in time but wanted to come hang out for the real fun, Jared smacked me on the chest and pointed at a dude. I looked at him, he looked familiar, and didn’t believe his name tag. It said Anthony Casturita. He looked like Anthony. But the problem was that Anthony died in a car accident several years ago after a tour in Iraq. Like, no joke, on the way to the reunion Jared and I drove past Anthony’s old apartment, gave a kiss and a peace sign basically saying RIP homie, wish we could see you tonight. We got our wish.
Through some sort of grapevine confusion, and Eric Casturita (Anthony’s cousin) dying in the fashion we thought Anthony died, most of us thought it was Anthony. My mother told me first. After shaking off some shock (and tears in the restroom), I said, “Dude, I thought you were dead.” He laughed in his typical fashion, “You’re like the 8th person that’s said that to me already.” I called my mother, she lost it, and we had an amazing time the rest of the night, one of our lifelong best friends being raised from the dead as far as my emotions were concerned.
The next day Anthony came over, visited with my Mom for a bit, then the three of us headed to the usual pizza spot and met everybody else that wanted to show up for pizza. I was planning on drinking water but the sick resurrected bastard ordered a pitcher of Newcastle. I couldn’t say no. So much for getting back to Vegas quickly. We spent a few hours there, laughing and remembering the old times, and eventually headed back home.
I was bushed, took it easy Sunday night, and then hit the moving hard Monday. My house has seen better days. I’ve basically kissed the deposit goodbye. One old roomie, Danny the Degenerate F%*# up and bailed while I was on the road, leaving a helluva mess behind. Nobody’s made any effort to clean things up and I ain’t gonna pay the people to do it, nor do I have the time to do it myself. Oh well. I got all of my stuff moved out Mon-Wed, but still at the house is an early 80’s Toyota pickup that I fronted the cash for Danny to buy, his parents were going to pay for it, they sent the check, he never gave me the money, and now it has a flat tire and a dead battery. There’s also a broken down boat (the Piece of Ship), a running dirt bike, 4 not running jet skis, a broken air hockey table, a crappy foosball table, all of another roomies stuff, and a bunch of garbage. Sigh.
I’ve gotta do my best to take care of all of that before Aruba. Shelley and I fly out of Vegas early Saturday morning, so you betcha that we’re going to be ready to be in the full relax (aka drink) mode. See y’all on the beach!
Peace and good luck,
Devo
Tags: Aruba, las vegas
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Friday, September 25, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
The final leg of my journey has kinda centered around hanging out with married people/families. That and my dragging bad weather around with me everywhere I have been. In Mobile, they said, “Weather was great until you got here!” A week later I showed up in Colorado, and it snowed the next three days. The weather got gnarly enough that I was forced to return south and cross New Mexico instead of crossing the Colorado Rockies, which made me very sad. The climax of my trip was going to be climbing a 14er and riding my bike across Colorado. Sad.
Anyways, married people. In Dallas I stayed with Lars and his family. Wife, three kids. In Pueblo I stayed with Travis, my former roomie, and his family. Wife, two kids. In Colorado Springs I had lunch with Rod, who was always married and my former boss at Peak 3 Outfitters, but got to see his wife and two girls who are now 13 and 10. I remember when they were 6 and 4. I stayed with Eric, another former roomie, and his wife Laura. They were the first to get married, July 23rd, 2005. I hung out with Matt, another former roomie, who got married a couple of years ago. Eric, Matt, and I went out to Westcliffe to visit Dave and Michelle. Dave was a former roomie and both of them (and Eric) all worked for Peak 3 also. Dave and Michelle have a son named Wesley, or “squirrel boy”, or any other number of critter like terms of endearment that Dave bestowed on his son. After Peak 3 folded they bought a piece of Bear Basin Ranch on the other side of the valley, built a house, and have been running horse pack trips and loving it. We had a great time hanging out with Dave and Michelle.
I miss them, I miss Colorado, and I totally miss living in the middle of nowhere. Custer County, where they live now, where Peak 3 was, and where I did search and rescue, has about 3000 residents and zero traffic lights. I loved living there. The drive back to the Springs was sweet, we had Chick-fil-a or however u spell it for dinner, and then Levi, another former roomie, came over to visit. He got married to Mandy, a staff member from 2002 the year before I was there, and they had a kid 9 weeks ago. We caught up, talked about Jeremy, the last of the former roomies, and he married Ann, one of the group of friends from back then. Mary, Ann’s best friend, is marrying Jeremy’s brother.
And then there was me. I moved out 4 years ago, miss the place desperately, and they all went and grew up on me. Meanwhile I spent 8 months failing at a marriage and over 3 years gallivanting around Vegas and the world. It’s been super fun, but I definitely feel like I’ve been missing something. This whole trip has been some sort of weird mental sabbatical for me, with hours upon hours spent in the saddle, alone, with just my iPod and thoughts. I have to be out of my bachelor pad of a house by Oct 1. Thank God. After getting screwed by Danny the Degenerate, and the Native American spending two months in jail this summer, things kinda fell apart. I’m stoked to move out. I don’t think we have a chance at getting deposit money back. I’m moving in with my girlfriend. Big step, I know. I think that in some deep down dark corner of my subconscious soul, this entire trip was about her and moving in with her. I certainly didn’t intend on it, but I think I’ve been testing myself, her, and us this trip, seeing how serious I really am a out this relationship. I’m not sure and it’s still something I chew on most when I’m lost in thought on the bike. I think a lot of it has been me being scared. I’m very scared of deep, trusting relationships. I got hurt pretty badly by my dad, and I haven’t exactly had successful relationships in the past. I think that I wanted to really do some soul searching and wrestle with the idea of how much I actually like this girl. Well, it certainly wasn’t a conscious thought when I left, but it’s something that I have thought about a lot. 62 days later, she’s been amazing except for missing me too much, which I can’t really have a problem with. And I’ve fallen more in love with her. She probably won’t believe that, cause women generally don’t understand boyish nomadic tendencies, but it’s a fact. I’m quite excited to be moving in with her and was that way before hitting Dallas. But spending the last week with many happy couples and families has set me on a new goal – I want that, and I want it with Shelley. And I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. So, at the tail end of what has been the greatest “adventure” in my life, I am nothing but excited about starting what is hopefully going to be the grand adventure which is life. Peace and good luck, Devo
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Thursday, September 17, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
I cannot believe how much it has rained in the south. They tell me that it’s not normal, but ever since I arrived in Charlotte back on day 25 it’s rained waaaaaay more than it hasn’t.
Florida was one big long series of thundershowers, which I can understand: tropical climate, this time of year, etc. But damnit, Saturday morning at 2am I was passed out in my tent, comfortably naked in my sleeping bag, and it started raining. I was prepared enough to have the fly ready to go since it was still Florida and likely to rain at any time, but I still had to run around naked waterproofing my stuff. I really hope somebody was watching because it had to be hilarious. Semi-out of shape white dude with really tan arms, legs, and face scrambling around a tent naked in the rain trying to set up a fly and stash gear underneath it in record time. I did pretty well though, and actually enjoyed camping in the rain, until the next morning when it was time to wake up (because I couldn’t sleep anymore) and my boots got left out. I packed in the rain, a party came in as I was leaving at 9am, and they said there was no rain the whole way down (from Georgia) until they hit Panama City.
Fine, I’m about 4 hours from New Orleans, hopefully as I head that way the rain will lapse. It didn’t. In fact, after Pensacola, it just got worse. So bad that by the time I was on the east side of Mobile Bay I couldn’t take it anymore and had to quit. I parked in downtown Mobile, found me a Holiday Inn, checked in, and took apart everything I had because it was soaked. The poor maid must have been like, wtf, how is there sand and pine needles in the bathroom?
I played the HORSEament online, took 50th/1000 or so, annoying after a 48th in the 8-game, same field earlier in the week, both in which I had huge stacks and ran terribad at the end. I went out in downtown Mobile, had a great time, and experienced my second encounter with “membership” bars in my life. The first came in Utah one summer when I broke down on my way to guide a river trip in Cali; apparently to drink at a bar you have to be a member. Odd. In Mobile it’s that way for many of them after 2am, all I had to do was fill out some card and I was in the club. Dumb legislation.
Was gonna leave Sunday morning, get to New Orleans, then play online. Nope. Up too late the night before. The group of peeps that I met the night before invited me to go sailing, I’m like it’s supposed to rain, they didn’t care, I was insanely tempted to go since I miss sailing a ton (I dabbled with the USC sailing team in college, declining a spot on the roster to work with Jr. High kids at a church instead). But since it’s the middle of the WCOOPs I decided I needed to work, and it looked like a good decision when I ran the entire day with a top 100 stack in the WCOOP $1k. I made it to day 2 slightly below average after losing QQ to 99 on a Q9x flop for a huge stack. I swear I’m cursed at poker; I’ve run significantly below expectation in key deep spots lifetime, and I believe that our lives are too short to truly ever reach the long term. I mean, how often will I get it in set over set deep in the money in a $3m guarantee tourney? I can think of one time this year. I lost.
Whatever, I can’t complain, I did finish 2nd in my first ever WSOP event, this game is just brutal sometimes. However I may be cursed at poker I more than make up for in life. So Monday morning I had the same plan, get to New Orleans, and I woke up to sideways rain on the window. Nope, staying in Mobile another night. I ran errands after the rain broke, got all fired up to play online, and lasted 4 hands. Four. I open AQ, an 18 bb stack shoves, I call, lose to 99. 3 hands later in my SB it folds to me, I have 15bb’s, jam 44, lose to QQ in the big. So frustrating.
I chilled out that night, hanging at the local pizza and beer place I found Saturday night, talking with a gay dude named Dick about fly fishing in the Gulf. There’s a neat vibe in Mobile that I thoroughly enjoyed, and it marked the third city that I spent more than 2 nights in.
Tuesday I woke up eager to get going, and it was still pouring rain. My gear had dried out enough that I said, eff it, I’m going, wrapped trash bags around everything, and after about an hour of packing and prep, literally 3 minutes before I left as I was bungee cording my bags to the bike, the clouds broke and it was clear skies all the way to New Orleans. I still wore my rain pants cause there was enough water on the ground, and did drive through one thunderstorm but it was short enough that I didn’t even bother stopping to put on my jacket. Sigh.
Got to New Orleans, checked in at the Frenchman Hotel, waked down Bourbon street, wasn’t really impressed, actually walked back to play the $1k online, busted and lost playing cash games, walked back to Bourbon street, started drinking, still wasn’t impressed, walked back to the locals neighborhood where I was at, enjoyed this bar called Molly’s cause there were people there that I could talk to, and then went to sleep.
The most consistently enjoyable part of this trip for me has been meeting people along the way. I’ve encountered so many interesting people and enjoyed so many awesome person’s company that I’ve had a wonderful time traveling over 8500 miles of this continent in the past 56 days. Thank you everybody for being good people.
Woke up to blue skies with one thunderhead to the east, no prob, packed up, left, and began hauling ass. I wanted to get as close to Dallas as possible and knew that I had a legit shot at getting all the way there. I hit rain south of Shreveport, stopped to put on the rain gear, and after the thunderstorm when I stopped for gas I was expecting to take it off. It looked like there may be another cell ahead, so I kept the gear on. Sadly I wouldn’t take the gear off for the rest of the way, over 250 miles of constant rain, and once again all of my gear is soaked. I kept thinking that the rain would break and I could de-gear, I never needed to stop to put trash bags over my luggage… and I was wrong. Damn you one thousand miles of gulf coast and your lack of hurricane raininess. Y’all say this is abnormal, I want to know where the hurricane is so at least I could say I rode through that. Nope. I just rode through the rainy south.
Peace and good luck,
Devo
Tags: Poker Poker Poker, USC, WCOOP, WSOP
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Friday, September 11, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
I’ve been on the road a long time. Fifty days straight now. I’ve learned a lot of things about myself, life, the world, my relationships, money management (lol), and many more things that I’m still chewing on. I’m happy that I have over 2800 miles left on my journey to chew on those things although I’ll probably never fully understand many of the things that I’ve experienced on this trip.
This weekend I found myself in Key West, FL, at mile 0, end US 1. After busting from the Sundays, I hit Duval street intending on bar hopping my way north until I couldn’t anymore. Somewhere around five beers in I found myself at Catherine’s Bar and pulled up a chair next to an old due named Don. Turns out all of the dozen people there were local. I was thoroughly enjoying myself and happy to find a locals hangout. I asked many questions of Don, everything from where to go next, what to do tomorrow, etc. I asked about his story, and Sunday night I got this much of it.
He moved there three years prior if i remember correctly to retire from Boston. After spending one week being a bum and “watching too much TV,” he got a job at a local guest house to have something to do. He works 5 or 6 days a week, 8am to 3pm, as a gopher. He runs errands, basically takes care of any loose ends that need taken care of. He makes 1k a week. The dude was hilarious, 69 years old, and full of smiles. The job he got was the first job he ever had. “I always found my own way to make money over the years.”
He said I should go to Irish Kevin’s which was down the street, and the next day I had to check out Pepe’s, on the 800 block of Caroline St, happy hour starts at 4pm. I told him that I would be there and headed down in pursuit of more beer.
On the way I stopped at couple of other bars, and found Don at one of they kitty corner from Catherine’s. We hung out some more, he introduced me to some people, and then said that he looked for me at Kevin’s but I obviously wasn’t there. I eventually moseyed along to Kevin’s and don’t remember much of the night after that, according to texts sent to my girlfriend I quit after 2 shots and 12 beers over 10 bars.
The next day I woke up, had breakfast (a chicken sandwich and a captain and coke) at the southernmost beach in the continental US. After that I headed over to Fort Taylor state park, explored that, then did some swimming. I met some locals, every one of the three dudes and three chicks rocking beer guts, and eventually dried off to head to Pepe’s.
I got there somewhere after 4pm island time and found Don drinking a beer, he pulled up a stool next to him and we began chatting again. I made it just in time for the oyster race, where one of the star shuckers from out back brings five oysters. The host dude emcee’s the thing, everybody in the bar gets a number one thru five, and he times her shucking each oyster, one thru five. Five was the fastest, so everybody with a #5 card got to come up and choose one of 75 master lock keys. They were all part of this wooden contraption with the key case, a box with a lock on it containing $150, a box labeled “Door #3″, and another box labeled “Other Door #3″. So people chose their keys, one by one tried to open the lock, and for the pretty girls and chosen ones the emcee would offer a deal. The first one took $15 shuckin’ dollars (Pepe’s gift certificates) in exchange for her key. Dude obviously knows what key is the winner. A pretty girl got offered $20 plus whatever’s in door #3. Then he offered $25 and the door. She waited too long and it went back to $20. Then he threw in other door #3, she accepted, and got $20, a hat, and a shirt. Nobody ended up having the winning key and all the locals were happy, munching down the free food (and oysters).
Don got to telling me stories about when he was in the service during the sixties. Turns out that “In the sixties everybody thought ‘Nam was going to be over in a few weeks; we were going to go in, kick some ass, and get out of there. So when they started drafting it was a pretty easy decision to dodge.” He dodged it twice, but then when the sheriff showed up and put him in handcuffs he was left with a few decisions. Meanwhile, his brother snuck out the back, into the bushes, moved to Florida, and has been here since.
He was offered to go to jail, serve 2 years in Nam, or serve 3 years anywhere else in the world. “I said hell, I’ll drink beer in Germany for three years.” So he went there and for a while basically manned a machine gun post on the west side. He said, “We weren’t paid much but did well with the cigarettes we could get cheaply. We sold them to the Italians for $10 a carton when we were paying $1.” He told me about how him and his counterpart on the eastern side would cross often at night and hang out, swapping smokes for home cooked meals. “We didn’t want to shoot each other.” I asked him a bunch of questions about that, the history there, what it was like, and he told me a bunch of stories. One time a Volkswagen bus pulled up on the east side, they said halt, they didn’t, and they opened fire. “They pulled 27 bodies out of that but. That was a bad day.” He also told me a story of a guy who lived near the wall and wanted to build a garden. Asked the guard if he could, guard said yes, he built a garden, gave some of the harvest to the guards. Next year they let him build it a little bit bigger, and over the years he earned their trust. Every year the garden getting bigger and closer to the wall. They gave him a horse one year, and on the 10th year they gave him a bulldozer. “As soon as he got in that bulldozer, this was when I was there, he drove that bulldozer right over the damn guard shack and ran like hell to our side. Ten years he had that plan to get over the wall!”
“Then this one couple built a hot air balloon out of a tarp and a basket. They made it over the wall without getting shot, and we picked them up. I was in the jeep ambulance with them when we took them to the hospital. About two or three years ago I was in (some random town Pennsylvania) for my first and last time, and there were these two people at the bar that I got to talking to. One was the ambulance driver from that day and another was the man in the tarp balloon. First time they had been there too. Now that’s a small world.”
He had a lot of neat stories, but what he said that stuck out the most was when I first greeted him that afternoon. “You have a good day?” With a big smile he replied, “Every day’s a good day these days.”
He eventually took his leave, saying he had to go hang some sheet rock. He gave me his number offering a place to crash next time I’m there, it’s for his cell phone, an old Motorola he claimed 15 years old, one that was incapable of texting.
There’s a lot more to life than poker. I’m glad that I’ve been blessed with the ability and drive to get out and do things, see the world, and it makes me sad to see many of these kids that don’t have anything besides poker going for them. When they run bad they’re miserable and hopeless cause they have nothing else going in their life. I definitely err to the other side of things, spending too much time doing things and not enough time playing poker. I need to do a better job of putting in my time and effort so that I can maintain this lifestyle that I enjoy so much, so that eventually every day will be a good day these days. There has to be balance, and it’s a lesson that I’m learning every day.
Peace and good luck,
Devo
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Thursday, September 3, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
So turns out Newton or Galileo or whoever way smarter than I said, “Objects at rest stay at rest, objects in motion stay in motion,” was on to something. Today is day 43 that I’ve been away from home on this Great Ride of a motorcycle trip, and for the last seventeen of them the I’ve remained in Cornelius, NC. A bit lazy I admit. But I’ve finally rustled up the motivation to get going again, I’m headed down to Myrtle Beach, SC today, then around the Florida peninsula to Key West, back along the Gulf Coast all the way to Dallas, north to Colorado, and back to Vegas.
I’ve played a lot of poker in the last couple of weeks. I was super disappointed in my result in LA, yet looking back I really don’t see anything I should have done differently. The rest of the last week has been much the same, I feel like I’m playing really well yet running quite poorly. Last night six of us shot a video for PokerVT. Daniel Negreanu, Jon Ettinger, Jon Turner, Josh Norris, and Jason Summerville and I played a 1-2 NLHE 6max game for 2 hours while all independently filming live while talking our way through the hands. I think that it’s going to end up coming out really well. I lost about $200, only playing one big pot where I got all the money in pre with AA v. Daniel’s QQ and he played the flop way better than I flopping a queen.
Also last night I was playing 10-20 Stud8 on Ultimate Bet for a while and busted this guy with a short stack. He had $38 to start the hand, we were five handed, a 6 brought it in, he was showing an ace and completed to $10, and I was next with (K2)K. Normally a very crappy situation in stud8, cause they either have split aces, three to a low, or are on a steal due to the weak board between him and the bring-in. Anyways, since he only had $38 it wasn’t much of a decision, get it in. I do, he actually has split aces, but I play fifth street good and made kings and deuces, he never improved. That launched the most amazing rant ever against me. I had no respect, ruined the game, ruined online poker, etc, because it was obvious that he had aces. He wanted me to apologize, still not sure what for, and the “sad part” was that I “STILL THINK [I] WON”. He said it like a zillion times. I actually gave him a logical response first, saying that it wasn’t much of a decision since he only had two big bets, then I somewhat sarcastically talked about my two pair beat his one pair, but much like a crazy emotional woman logic was lost this dude, so all I could do was encourage him. Tell me more? Yeah? How so? It was amazing, honestly the best berating I have ever been given. He never did reload sadly.
Because of so much poker this week I haven’t done anything too exciting. Got home on Thursday, lazy on Friday, Lake on Saturday, poker on Sunday, played a couple hours in a worse than expected home game Monday afternoon then played online Monday night, and then Tuesday I played tennis with Court, got beat twenty-four games in a row, but had fun lol. I was about as good as possible with that record, and even made it to advantage me once. Came home, played online, slept, laundry now, and ready to go. People wonder why I don’t like playing online. It sucks the life out of you that’s why. So I’m ready to get back on the road, but since it is the WCOOP coming up and I do still do this for a living I’ll probably be stopping a bit early along the way and playing donkaments.
Less poker, more life imo. I’m off to do just that.
Peace and good luck,
Devo
Tags: Daniel Negreanu, Jason Summerville, Jon Ettinger, Jon Turner, Josh Norris, Online Poker, Play Poker, Poker Poker Poker, Poker VT, Ultimate Bet, WCOOP
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Friday, August 28, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
Oh man my back is killing me. I never, like, ever get back massages at the table, mostly because if I’m getting a massage it’s to relax and I don’t want to be sitting at a poker table trying to do that. But, my back was still super knotted from the last month of nonsense that for the first time this year I decided to go for my first back massage at the table. Plus, here in LA they’re cheaper than anywhere else. Most places rip you off at $2/minute (another reason I never get them), Bellagio is $15/25 mins, but in LA is $1/min. It turns out that most poker players choose their masseuses for the wrong reasons (’I bet that twenty-three year old blonde with fake boobs who is enough of a slut to be in Vegas with fake boobs but too conservative to be a stripper gives great massages’). Here in Los Angeles many of them have sideburns and/or moustaches, so they only get away with charging $1 per minute.
With the biggest pile of chips I’ve ever had in front of me growing with every orbit deep in day 3 of the Legends WPT main I ordered me up an Asian sideburn lady massage. Turns out they’re way stronger than the experts in Vegas, and by the end of the night, which turned out to be very depressing, my back was sore, like a hurt muscle sore.
All that to say that a full day and another night of sleep has passed since then, and I can barely move. You know when you have that cramp in your neck that keeps you from turning it in one direction, so every time you have to look that way you have to turn your whole body but you usually forget and try to just turn your neck and it hurts? Well my entire left side feels like that. It sucks.
Anyways, for 2.5 days I ran as good as I have ever run in a WPT main. I was chip leader in level one, I was chip leader in level 4, I ended day 1 21st/190 or so. Day two was great, had one hiccup where I doubled Daniel going into break but busted Kenna James first hand back to regain my pile. I then ran AA into KK for the 2nd biggest pile in the tournament, went into day 3 5th in chips, 73 remaining. First hand I open AQ, get shoved on by the BB who I snap and lose to AK. He then says, “I was going to shove no matter what I had.”
It didn’t take long though as several hands later I opened UTG with 22 (I mean, it’s hard to make a pair), get called by the BB, flop Q92 two clubs, he donks, I raise, he re-raises, I re-raise, he shoves, I decide to make a loose call, he has A8cc and we hold. Mike Karman in the 9 seat laughs, says, “How the f*** do you get them to put in so much money with a flush draw? It’s like you just melt their minds bro?!” The dealer says, “FLOOR!” Calls out Mike for using the f-bomb. Apparently that’s not cool here in LA, and he’s given a one hand penalty. They gave Steven Begleiter a one hand penalty for agreeing to check it down vs. another player who offered and got no penalty. They can alter the play schedule, play beyond the money on day three, but they can’t choose to not enforce a stupid rule that they admittedly will be removing after the tournament. Anyways, from then I just coolered the hell out of em every chance I could get. I busted Negreanu with 55 on a 775 flop. Checked to him on the button, I raised, he called with 33 cause he didn’t believe me then hit a third trey on the turn. I got it in vs. Kenny Ng with two red aces vs. his two red fives. Mike Karman folded the black fives. Pretty far ahead there lol.
Everything went great until we made the money. I was still chip leader. The first fifteen minutes went just fine, I chipped back up to 700k no problem, and then the wheels on the bus fell off. I open KQo to 13k at 3k-6k/500, get called by David Demanski, flop J73r I bet he calls, turn a 3 check, check, river a Q I bet 47,500 he makes it 100k. He’s never bluffing there ever so I fold. Sigh. Next hand kid to my right with 170k opens, I re-raise AQo, he tanks, makes it obvious that he doesn’t have me crushed, finally elects to shove, and I lose to jacks. I lost all five races I got in this tourney. Then, about an orbit later I open T8dd, get called by the button and Todd Terry in the big blind. I was down to about 420k at this point. Flop Q96ddd, check, I bet 27,500, button folds, Todd makes it 100k, I shove, he snaps with A7dd, and I had the chip lead at 27 players only to bust 26th. Sigh.
The final table starts in 45 minutes, Jon Little and I are going to be there to root on Todd and Sam, good luck kids.
Last night though was a blast. Tony Gurgano and I were looking to cause some trouble, went over to the Bike to find Kim or anybody else who wanted to come out and play, found Jon Little, and we decided that we needed to either start a game of Pan or Mexican Poker. Pan was far too complex and the villains far too old, so we said, “Odelay, vato,” and played some $2-4 Mexican poker. Turns out I’m a Mexican poker fish as I lost $174, but I had a hell of a time. The game is like five card stud, spread limit betting. 2nd street is one down, one up, high card brings it in for either $2 or $4 (which doesn’t make sense since that card is usually the best hand). This should deter action, but according to the self proclaimed best, “Yoo guys, yoo fold mang. Mesikan players tho don’t fold mang.” “So you’re saying Mexican players are bad at Mexican poker?” asks Jon Little. “Si.” Jon tried to become this guy’s backer. He claimed to win 20 tournaments over the last two years, and they only have one a week.
So.. two down, one up, high card brings it in for $2 or $4. The deck is 41 cards. No tens, nines, or eights, one joker (YO-ker). If the yoker comes up, it’s like a Pai-Gow joker, plays for straights, flushes, and as an ace. Flushes beat full houses. If the yoker comes face down, it’s wild, even if you decide to turn it up. Because on third street, you have a choice. You can roll your hole card revealing what you have and get a new down card, or you can choose to keep your hole card concealed and get a 3rd card face up. Tony did this once and got the joker up and they all spoke in Spanish about what a fish he was. Hilarious. You get the same choice on 4th and 5th street, and truly made the game fun as hell.
Due to the absence of the eights, nines, and tens, Mexican broadway is A, K, Q, J, 7. Lol. In one hand Tony found himself on 4th street with A, K, Q, 7, vs. 3, 3, yoker, brick. I’m like, he’s drawing dead. “No, no, no, no, mang, he has un straight draw.” Ding, jack for Mexican broadway, “Aye yai yai!” He made that hand twice and won like a rack. Amazing.
On top of the card shuffler it said, “English only.” We made fun of it in Spanish, especially when the Asian dealer said “Ocho!” after I re-raised on 2nd street.
Peace and good luck,
Devo
Tags: Bellagio, Legends WPT, Los Angeles, Massage, Mexican Poker, Poker Poker Poker, Vegas
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Friday, August 21, 2009 - Bryan Devonshire
Tuesday night I found myself playing in one of the more interesting private, shady, and illegal “home” games that I’ve ever been involved in. It was nothing compared to the game of “Three by Four” I played in the back room of an illegal strip club in Nassau last January with Brandon Cantu, Jeff Madsen, and Matt Woodward and four locals, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless.
I’m in Cornelius, North Carolina on the apex of my cross-continent motorcycle ride staying with my friend Court Harrington. Apparently casino poker is illegal around here or something, I’m not really sure, but Court is very much a pro and makes his living playing in home games like these. We showed up at the place around 10pm, and it looked like we were pulling into a police substation. We were in the middle of South Charlotte, and after turning off the road onto a 50 foot driveway we came to a double chain link gate, locked, with barbed wire running the perimeter. There were single story unmarked brick buildings to my right and left, and a packed parking lot beyond. A Rastafarian dude who I think was named Hakoom walked out from the shadows, Court knew him, he opened the gate, and we pulled in and parked.
We walked to the door that said “Employees Only,” knocked, it buzzed, we walked in, three feet later hit another door with no handle, it was opened by Hakoom, and then we were standing at the foot of a 60′ hallway. To our right was a game, the “front game”. Turns out it was a 2-5 NL game. The main guy/host/guy that cashed us out greeted Court, met me, and then gave me the tour. I met Mary Jane the cute massage girl. I met Watson, the also very cute food and beer chick. I showed up at the place with a dude named Courtney and met a chick named Watson. They wonder why the rest of the country thinks they’re backwards in the South. We walk into the back, see the 11 handed 5-10-20 game, Court said it was bad news since 8 of the people in the game would be there all night and he was going to be third on the list.
So, I started getting worked on by Mary Jane to help my back through 25 days of motorcycle and 2 days of wakeboarding, and 15 minutes later they start up a new 2-5 game behind me. Even through there was nothing relaxing about the torture she was putting my back through, it was a necessary pain and I didn’t want to quit, but the players filing behind my chair were making it annoying so I joined the game also.
The whole time I was getting tortured by Mary Jane I was also being entertained by one dude, who turns out later has never been to Vegas, explaining to another dude everything there is to know about poker and Vegas. It was entertaining and annoying at the same time. He sounded like an internet nerd, using every poker term possible splashed with phrases like “owning souls”, “vpip”, and “snap call”.
So he sits at the new game, and the kid just keeps on keepin’ on runnin’ his mouth. He wasn’t being rude or anything, but he was giving Court and I his entire playbook and forcing us into the exchanged secret grin. I asked him what his name was online, big mistake imo because it could have blown my cover, but fortunately he didn’t know the badbeatninja. Turns out he plays exclusively on Ultimate Bet, told me his name, told me that he heavily multi-tables .50-1 nl, and many other things that insured Court and I would never lose any sort of pot to him barring some cooler. At one point he was telling his apprentice about how he floated a guy, I said, “What’s a float?” And I gotta give him credit for his answer, “It’s better than a sink.”
So he gets moved to the front game, Court and I giggle a bit more, and eventually I move up front also. To my left are two young-ish dudes, that dude, and the youngest dude, all with decently deep stacks, and all still talking shop like it was 2+2. I made some little rebuking comment along the lines of asking why they talk strategy so much at the table, and then I played this hand against one of the two non 2+2 frequenting players at the table.
I open early to $15 with QhJh. He calls in the SB. Flop Ts8h3s. Check, I bet $20, he calls. Turn Qc. Check, check. River 5d. He bets $55.
“I call.”
“One pair.”
“Which pair?”
Shrugs, “Small pair.”
“That’s good news. Which one?”
“Pair of fives.”
…
He shows me one five.
“I can beat that, but I still want to know what you have,” you ****tard, because the only ****ing way you’re going to get to see both of my cards is if I get to see both of yours, because I caught your ass bluffing and I want to know what you ****ing tried to do it with, and I also want to know how the **** you show up with a pair of fives. He shows me the 54o, I table my hand and drag the pot, and just couldn’t help myself and say, “Nice flop.”
That’s the sick part though. If I hadn’t hit one of ten cards on the turn or river, he probably wins that pot. He was the fish in the game too. Fish aren’t supposed to float, even if it’s out of position.
Court and I left the game shortly thereafter, simply because it wasn’t good. We weren’t going to lose much barring coolers, but we weren’t going to be winning much either. While driving home and thinking about the game, I really think those kids have ruined that game. One, it’s pretty annoying to listen to them talk, even though I know what they’re talking about. I can’t imagine what it’s like for the casual player, which are supposed to be filling these games (according to Court). I’m an ok player and I didn’t want to play there anymore, and I’m sure that plenty of their fish have thought the same thing. They just sat back and talked about eight, twelve, and twenty tabling online poker all day, threads on two plus two, and analyzing hand after hand, explaining why they did things, and damnit, most people playing poker that are “fish” aren’t dumb people, especially the higher up you move in stakes. The money has to come from somewhere. So, they’re either going to learn, or not come back to the game.
People wonder why poker has gotten tougher. I know that I’m guilty of it too, and I know that I need to spend more time talking about fly fishing and motorcycles than about poker at the table. Let’s make this game fun again, stop making people better for free, and insure that we can remain unemployed for a long time.
Peace and good luck,
Devo
Tags: 2 + 2, Brandon Cantu, Jeff Madsen, Matt Woodward, Nassau, Poker Poker Poker, Poker talk, Vegas
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