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Winning that tourney was a big deal for me. It put me on the map as a real player and showed the people at UB that I was taking this very seriously and that their investment in me was a good one. Winning it wasn’t a fluke; I had cashed the $200,000 many times, even finishing in the top ten three times—ninth, seventh, and fourth—and landing five or six times in the top twenty. And every time I would bust out, especially the time I finished in fourth place, I would think, How the hell do you win this? I got this far only to blow it. I had just accomplished the seemingly impossible, and winning only pushed me to work even harder at my game.
Straddling two worlds was becoming difficult. Anthrax and poker were crossing over into one another, and the lack of down time was starting to take a toll on me as well as those around me. I was always working, usually in both worlds at the same time. Either one of these jobs is a 24/7 gig, and I was doing both. My focus was certainly being blurred, and that was affecting Anthrax. For the band 2009 was a transition period; we were writing songs for what would become Worship Music, and we were trying to move ahead with a new singer, slowly moving forward, playing some shows here and there but with no real tour schedule. I was very excited about the songs we were working on, but everything else band business–wise was like pulling teeth trying to get back on our feet and be seen as a viable commodity in the metal world. In that moment Anthrax was a struggle, a constant battle for us to remain afloat, and I fought that fight every day no matter what. I would never walk away from my band. But poker became my escape from the music business. I was still in the honeymoon phase with poker, and playing was satisfying me in the same way playing music did. Poker gave me the energy to keep moving forward and was also paying the bills, which was a huge help.
The 2009 World Series of Poker (WSOP) was looming on my horizon. The WSOP runs from the end of May until mid-July every summer, and that’s primetime-touring season as well, so it’s hard for me to be able to play in it. I had tried to play some events in 2008, but my schedule wouldn’t allow for it. Going into the 2009 WSOP I made sure I’d be able to play some of the smaller buy-in tourneys and was hoping to play the $10,000 buy-in main event. When I compared my band schedule to the WSOP main event dates I thought someone was fucking with me: it was as if the metal and poker gods got in a room to discuss my schedule and made a prop bet to see if I would be able to handle what it would take schedule-wise to play the main event. They would align all the planets so I could play but with a catch: my schedule would be so impossible that I couldn’t possibly make it, let alone cash or win. Anthrax was on tour in Europe in June, and we’d be finishing our tour the day before the last day one that the main event was scheduled to start. They need to have four starting days—1A, 1B, 1C, 1D—to accommodate all the players who want to play the main event just to fit them into all the card rooms set up at the Rio Hotel and Casino. I was going to make day 1D by the skin of my teeth.
I got to Las Vegas from Germany on Sunday, July 5. We had just completed a three-week tour playing the Sonisphere festivals with Metallica all over Europe, and I was happy about the shows we’d played but also very tired. I got to Vegas at 8 p.m., dropped my bags at the Hard Rock Hotel, and headed straight for the Rio (home of the WSOP) to buy in to the main event. I decided to buy in the night before because I knew that if I waited to buy in the morning of day 1D, I would be fucked. I was right. The next morning the lines were crazy, filled with people trying to get into the last main event starting day at the last minute, and people got shut out because it was over capacity. I had just traveled fifteen hours and got my ass to the Rio as soon as I got to Vegas to claim my seat, so I have no sympathy for anyone who waited until the morning of and got denied. I got to bed by midnight with jet lag and all my excitement to play the main event wrestling with each other. I lay there until finally my body just took control and told my brain to not be an asshole and let me sleep.
I got to the Rio Monday morning at 11 a.m. for day 1D. I made it. I stood there in the hallway for a few minutes, taking it all in. I was right in the middle of poker’s biggest party, and the vibe was incredible: 6,494 people had bought in to play the main event, and we all thought we could win it. I was excited, like jumping-out-of-my-skin excited. I had a coffee in the Ultimate Bet suite and was off to find my seat. I was so adrenalized about playing that I barely felt my feet touching the floor as I walked to my table. Day 1D was a five-level (two-hour levels, blinds go up each level, with a thirty-minute break between levels) blur of intensity and focus. I got dealt AA midway through the day and fired every street (betting the flop, turn, and river) on a Qd6d6s4d3s board. I bet $7,000 on the river, and the guy went into the tank (making his decision on what to do) for three minutes. He finally called and mucked (folded) like Quicksilver when I showed AA. That got me to over $40,000 in chips. I could’ve played five more levels if I had to, I was so amped to be there. I ended up with an above-average chip stack at the end of the night and was looking forward to the day off while they played day 2A of the main event the next day. A side note to that: I had asked about playing day 2A instead of 2B because of my crazy schedule and was even able to personally ask the head of the WSOP, Jeff Pollack, about it, but it wasn’t going to happen.
I spent Tuesday doing nothing. Literally. I slept twenty hours recovering from my flight in from Europe and the tour. I was mentally and physically preparing for the monster I was going to need to beat in order to make it through the week.
I played day 2B on Wednesday, and once again I played my game, staying focused and patient. It paid off, as late in the day I found myself with AA again with another player all-in preflop and another player in the pot. With about $40,000 in the pot, the flop came 8d6d3d. I bet $13,000, and the other player folded. I turn over AcAd. The all-in guy had QsJh. The turn and river come 7s5c, and I chipped up to $106,000. After that things got tough, and over the next level of play I was slowly draining chips, card-dead forever. I stayed scrappy and was in okay shape by the end of it. The day finished at 1:30 a.m., and I had a little less than the tourney average chip stack. I felt okay about my play and had made it to day three. At this point over half the field had been eliminated, and I was still in it, so I was happy. I bagged up my chips and ran to grab a taxi back to my hotel, where I would shower, sleep two hours, and get back into a taxi to the airport at 4:30 a.m. to make my flight to Tulsa.
What the hell did you just say? Where the hell are you going in the middle of the main event? Why are you going to Tulsa?
Remember the catch I was talking about earlier?
Anthrax had a festival to play in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on Thursday, July 9, which was the media day of the main event, so no tourney that day, so I had the day off. Knowing for months that I would be able to play the main, arriving from Europe hours before day 1D and with this one show right in the middle of it didn’t make it any easier for me now that I was here. The only thing keeping me going was the adrenaline and excitement of being able to be there playing hold ’em in the main event. And if I were to make it to the final nine players at the end of the main event, I had to fly out the next day to Sweden to continue the tour. It was a perfect yet insane window of time. I was doing everything in my power to not fuck it up.
I barely slept and got to the deserted airport at 4:30 a.m. No one was leaving Las Vegas in the middle of the main event except me. I was a zombie. I flew at 6 a.m. from Las Vegas, with a stop in Denver, and then on to Tulsa, arriving at 2 p.m. I slept on the flight and headed straight out to the festival site, which was an hour drive away. We were headlining the opening night of the Rocklahoma festival. I was already dreading the fact that we were going to be off stage after midnight and then I had an hour drive back to the hotel, shower, no sleep, and back to the airport by 4:30 a.m. so I could make it back to the Rio by noon on Friday for day three of the tourney. This scenario actually frightened me. How was I physically going to pull this off?
The show was killer, the crowd was awesome, and I stored that energy in my reser
ve tank to help me make it through the next twenty-four hours. I made it to the Tulsa airport in time for my flight back to Vegas, and even my connecting flight through Denver was on time. I thought for sure there would be a delay and I would be sitting in the Denver airport waiting for my Vegas flight as I got blinded off (if you don’t show up to your seat, the dealer will place your blinds for you each round and fold your hand) to nothing. Nope. No way. I was on a mission, and I was going to make it. And not only did I make it, but the flight was even fifteen minutes early so I was able to check back into my hotel, shower, and make the Rio by 11:15 a.m., forty-five minutes before the start of day three. The poker gods were watching over me. I am sure I am the only person at the Rio who flew out and played a show the night before day three. I wish someone had bet me that I couldn’t do it. I started mainlining coffee and headed into the tournament room.
I was feeling pretty good, all things considered, totally pumped about making day three. I’m usually quiet at the table when I am playing poker, maybe some small talk once in a while, but today I started out all talk. I was telling some people who recognized me at my table all about my trip to Tulsa. They couldn’t believe I had done all that and made it back to play. Just being there gave me confidence.
Day three was tough. I lost a couple of pots early on and was in the thirty BB (big blind) range. No need to panic yet, but I was feeling the stress of the week, and that was letting the pressure get to me. It was hard to stay patient. I was playing aggressively, trying to chip up, but I was card-dead for well over a whole level, and it was hard to stay engaged while having to fold every hand because there was no stealing at my table. Someone was always calling or re-raising. I had enough chips to raise/fold maybe twice if I wanted to try to steal. I calmed myself down and just kept folding all the crap hands and did my best to stay in my game. Patience, my son. Stay focused on your goal. Like Quint hunting that shark, I was going to make it to day four. Finally UTG (under the gun, the position at the table that is the first to act preflop) raises to $3,000, and I re-raise with AcQc from the button to $7,500. He calls. The flop comes Kd9d2s. He checks, I bet $13,500, and he folds. Finally a little breathing room. The rest of the day went okay, and I was going to day four with $152,000, a little under average stack but playable, for sure. I barely remember getting in a taxi from the Rio back to the Palazzo. I crashed hard that night.
I was back for day four, still pretty burnt but definitely energized by the fact that the bubble (the point in a tournament when the next player out doesn’t make the money but everyone after that player is in the money) would break. I only got involved in one questionable hand about twenty people from the money. Middle position raiser makes it $11,000. I re-raise from the BB with AK to $30,000. The guy shoves (goes all-in) and has me covered. I have $120,000 behind (left in my chip stack). I think about it for two minutes and decide to fold. I’d seen this guy play only two other hands, AA and QQ. He was playing very tight, meaning he must have a big hand in this spot. I wasn’t going to coin-flip for my tournament life that close to the money. When I folded I showed my cards, and he turned over A10. I had him crushed. I was kicking myself, but later that day I was okay with the fold. If I call and he spikes a 10, I’d still be crazy over it, really crazy, like pants-full-of-poo, fighting-a-ghost crazy. That’s a bad beat I wouldn’t be able to just walk away from.
The tourney finally got to hand-for-hand play—when all the tables need to have hands dealt at the same time so you could finish a hand at your table and then have to sit there and wait five minutes until all the tables in the room finish their hands so the tournament director will know for sure who the last player is before the tournament goes into the money.
Hand-for-hand took forever, the pace slowed to a crawl, and then finally the bubble burst. We were in the money! A big cheer went up all across the room as the 680 or so players left all cashed. I have to admit that I was really excited about making the money. My first main event, and I cashed! I was more excited for this than I was for winning the UB $200,000 tourney. This was four days of excruciating mental and physical exertion to stay focused and, on top of that, the challenge of all the travel in the middle of it. My mind was blown.
My table broke (split up) right after the bubble, which was a bummer because now I’d have to deal with eight new players. On top of that, my own bubble had burst as well, and I could feel the whole crazy week pulling me down like hungry zombies (aren’t all zombies hungry?). I’d lost my focus and was just hoping to make the next break between levels so I could get my head together and regroup. I kept my head in the game as well as I could at that point and then got into a hand. I had J7 in the BB (the blinds were up to $3,000/$6,000 now). The SB (small blind) limped (just calls), and I checked. Flop comes 10-7-2 rainbow (three different suits). He bets $6,500. I think he’s lying and just trying to steal the pot, and I paired my 7, so I re-raise to $17,500 with $59,000 behind. He shoves. Ugh. What do I do now? I can fold and still have just under ten big blinds. That’s enough to play, hopefully double up quickly and make it through day four. That would’ve been the right play, but I’d lost my focus. I was tired, and with that, I’d lost my patience and I called. He turns over AA, and I am gut-punched. A 9 came on the turn, increasing my outs with the gut-shot straight draw. Would I hit on the river, a miracle suck-out to double me up and keep my hopes of winning the WSOP main event alive?
The 4 on the river brought me back to earth, and I was out. With a huge exhale, I got up from the table and headed to the cashier. I placed 637th out of 6,494 and cashed for $21,365, and I’m stoked. I walked out of the Rio a smiley-faced winner and can’t wait to do it again without an Anthrax show right in the middle of it. First thing I did was call Pearl to tell her I’d be home the next day. We’d been apart for four weeks at that point, and I couldn’t wait to see my lady. She was very excited about me cashing my first WSOP.
Then I headed back to the Palazzo, where I celebrated with a steak and a glass of red wine at the bar at Carnevino and then played in a $2/$4 cash game for a few hours and took a bunch of people’s money. I drove home to Los Angeles the next day and didn’t get off the couch for three days.
I took a week off from online poker after the WSOP to give my brain a chance to relax. I was seeing cards in my sleep. I started playing again and was right back into not just double duty but quadruple duty with poker and music. Everything was moving forward in Anthrax world. The songwriting for Worship Music was going really well, and there were big things on the horizon. We were on the verge of reuniting with Joey Belladonna and doing the first Big 4 shows with Metallica, Slayer, and Megadeth in Europe. I was also on tour with Pearl quite a bit at this point, which was really the best for me, getting to be the rhythm guitar player in my lady’s band and watching her kick ass every night. Along with all this, The Damned Things record had come out and I was touring all over the planet with them as well. And all the while I was playing poker. If I wasn’t on stage or sleeping, I was playing online. Looking back on it, I have no idea how I managed it all. I’d get asked in interviews all the time how I was able to do all these things, and I’d answer, “I had myself cloned.”
This crazy amount of work not only continued all the way through 2010 and into 2011, but it got crazier. Pearl was pregnant, and that was the greatest news ever. I started coming home early from The Damned Things tours to spend more time at home with her. Meanwhile Anthrax was back in full-speed mode after a big US tour with Slayer and Megadeth in the fall of 2010, and there was no stopping that machine now that it was running again. Joey was back, and the Big 4 shows were happening, and all the struggles we were facing were yesterday’s news. Pearl and I went to Las Vegas in January of 2011 and got married, surprising my father for his seventieth birthday celebration. We’d been talking about getting married for a while, and making it a part of my dad’s birthday made it extra special. It was just a small group of family and friends, and the best Filipino Elvis impersonator ever married us.
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nbsp; Anthrax played the first US Big 4 show in April of 2011 at the Empire Polo Grounds outside of Los Angeles, and on the back of that triumph I had just renegotiated my deal with UB, signing a new two-year contract that was really too good to be true. The best job ever just kept getting better.
I’d been playing poker for just over three years, and it had become a huge part of my life. UB were very happy with what I brought to the company, and their ROI (return on investment) was working out very well for everyone involved. So 2011 was shaping up to be the best year of my life personally and professionally.
And then came Black Friday.
And we’re right back where this tale started. The government takedown of online poker left a trail of destruction in its wake. Tens of thousands of people, players and industry folk alike, were suddenly out of jobs as a multi-billion-dollar industry vanished. Players couldn’t get their money off the sites; I was hearing horror stories about players with their life savings gone, who had their money earmarked for college that they’d never be able to pay for now—story after terrible story. Nobody knew what was going on; it was chaos. Was the shutdown permanent? Could we play online in Europe from the United States? Would we ever get our money out? There were no answers. The people I knew who worked for UB were as much in the dark as I was and even worse off, because they had no jobs and had rent to pay and children to feed. I considered myself lucky. Even with my new deal at UB going up in smoke I had my awesome day job and had started pulling my money out of my online account months before Black Friday. I had always looked at my online poker account as a savings account. Whatever UB paid me and whatever I won online would just accumulate in my UB account. About six months before Black Friday I got a call from Will Griffiths, the guy who signed me up to play at UB and changed my life. Will was no longer at UB, but we had become friends and always stayed in touch. Will asked me if I had a lot of money online, and when I told him I did he said, “You should start taking it out.” I asked him why and he told me, “The sites are having a really difficult time processing payments. There aren’t any real processors anymore because of the UIGEA, and the sites have been at the mercy of shady companies that are ripping off the cash they are supposed to be paying out to players. It’s costing the sites a lot of money, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them stopped operating in the United States.”