#304 - Moments of 2007, Part III – Miss Lulu’s Wild Ride
December 27, 2007
At 1 AM, with two tables remaining, Clonie, at the Williamson home at the other end of the Phoenix metropolitan area, and I are talking on the phone. I ask her to relay to Robert, who is in middle chip position in the Main Event, a request that I watch him play the final table from his house. Clonie tells me, “He says you better hurry over, because he’s making it.”
It takes me almost an hour and their house is in such a new development that I can’t find it even with my navigation system. But I get to their house at 2:01 AM, with the ten remaining players on break. Robert is still in the hunt.
I carried a voice recorder with me and simply recorded what happened over the next hour. Over the following couple days, I typed it up, edited it, and included some description and commentary. I’m going to reprint it here pretty much as it originally appeared. I’ve edited out a few things but these are the things I found most interesting: (1) what a goofy time we had; (2) Robert’s names for almost all garbage hands, one of which (8-3, Octo-Crab) I use to this day; and (3) Robert Williamson III’s split personality at the (online?) poker table.
THE DALLAS CONNECTION
The Williamson study is crowded. Someone playing online poker late at night would find it cozy, wedged in behind the double-sided desk, the rows of bookshelves, and the credenza, all containing hints of the fame and success of the owner. But on this occasion, in addition to Robert, there is Clonie Gowen, Cate, me, three computers, the last dregs of an excellent bottle of wine, and an assortment of tankard-sized wine glasses.
I sneak in over Robert’s left shoulder. There are still ten players left so his table is five-handed. He has 4-3o in the small blind.
“Woo-hoo! Look, that guy limped under the gun. You know I’m calling. Any two. You know, I might flop 3-4-4.”
Another player moves all-in for 600,000 and still another makes it 2,000,000. All talk about flopping 3-4-4 ceases and we all cheer as the shorter stack loses and Robert “Dallas” Williamson makes his first Full Tilt final table.
Here is how it looks at the start of the final table, in clockwise order:
Miss Lulu 1.7M
MychCumstien 2.3M
traheho 2.4M
CoinFlip 800K
Boosted J 2.1M
bokpower 879K
Balforios 1.7M
THEOLDLION 730K
Tsarrast 3.2M
Blinds are 30,000-60,000, with a 7,500 ante, for a little while more.
On the second hand at the final table, Miss Lulu picks up Q-3, the hand known as “the gay waiter.” When THEOLDLION raises to 277,000 (1/3 of his stack, the shortest at the table), Lulu folds.
“I hate laying those name hands down.”
He notes that something looks fishy about THEOLDLION’s bet, essentially pot-committing himself but not moving in.
traheho moves all-in for over 2,400,000. THEOLDLION calls with A-A, beating traheho’s 8-8 and doubling up to 1,500,000.
Miss Lulu gets no cards in the early going. I see Lulu fold T-5. “That’s a name hand, too. Woolworth. Five-and-dime.”
I start to tell Robert that the expression “twenty-three skidoo” originated in front of the Woolworth Building in New York, I think the better of it. I don’t want to be responsible for him playing T-5 in the future or, worse still, 2-3.
Besides, at that exact moment, Robert’s connection to the tournament goes down. This has happened several times during the course of the evening and Robert has Clonie’s computer operating on a separate connection and another computer in a different part of the house trying to access the internet through a third means. Cate takes a computer outside to the very back of the property – it is 2:15 AM and pitch black in the Arizona night – to see if that improves the connection.
Within a couple anxious hands, the connection returns and is not an issue the rest of the night. (These problems aren’t always resolved so easily. Robert mentions one night when he lost a $90,000 pot with the nuts when he got disconnected.)
Right after jumping on to Clonie’s computer, Miss Lulu gets pocket sixes in middle position.
“I could do anything with this. I could raise it, I could muck it.” Clonie is pleading for him to muck it. I want him to raise.
The equation changes substantially when tsarrast, the chip leader raises to 270,000 immediately to Robert’s right. He folds.
“THE WINE AND CLONIE SLOWED ME DOWN”
With a connection finally restored, Lulu gets 5-5 in the big blind. “Whoo! This could be it! With these chip stacks, I’m moving all-in. I know that.”
“Wha-at?” yells Clonie, rebooting her computer to try for a fresh internet connection.
A player in middle position raised to 280,000, so this is not a hypothetical situation, not a matter of Dallas rousing himself in the middle of the night with false bravado to help finish the tournament.
It’s all or nothing with Presto.
Lulu decides to fold, and Robert and Clonie have a spirited discussion about it.
“He’s a good player,” Clonie says, “You have to give him credit for a hand, raising in middle position.”
“But he’s a good enough player where he could have made a move out of position.”
Then why not push? I asked. I wanted to see Robert be DALLAS, make the bold cowboy move. (Of course, I busted from this tournament early enough to enter and bust out of three more tournaments.)
“I was re-raising, Mike, but the wine and Clonie slowed me down.”
CLONIE GOWEN’S MEASUREMENTS AND DONKEY KONG
As Robert folds hand after hand, I notice that Clonie is measuring her waist. There is a skinny tape measure in the study, so what better to do while watching your friend wait for cards than to take your measurements?
I see her peering at the tiny numbers. “Whatya got, Clonie?”
“Well, what should I do, my waist?”
“Whatever you want. I’ll put whatever numbers you tell me into my report.” Full coverage! I insist on it, and the folks at Full Tilt would accept nothing less.
“My waist is –“
We are momentarily distracted from learning Clonie Gowen’s measurements by word that Mike Matusow has made a surprise appearance.
An observer at the final table, Matusow announces that he is contacting support to see if there is a reason why several players at the final table have gotten disconnected.
Clonie calls out one of her measurements as 30. She says it’s her waist but it looks more like her rib cage, and she also has a sweater on. Clonie Gowen having a 30-inch waist makes about as much sense as Mike Matusow working for tech support.
Meanwhile, CoinFlip tried to make a move by pushing in with J-6. Boosted J calls in the big blind with K-J, but CoinFlip flips a 6 and doubles up.
Clonie takes her bust measurement and announces 34.
Hips? “About 35. 35-30-34. Seems a little weird, doesn’t it?”
“You DO NOT have 34 hips!” Cate calls out from the other room, interrupting her kitchen-internet-connection duties.
In a recount, Clonie’s waist measurement comes down to 28. American men can rejoice! Clonie’s waist is only 28!
At this point, Miss Lulu’s run of lousy cards includes 2-8o in middle position, the hand instantly known as Clonie Gowen’s Waist. “This is a perfect hand …” Robert says, sliding the bet-amount bar to the far end, 1,500,000, “… to fold.”
Cate’s still not satisfied with the accuracy of Clonie’s measurements. She grabs the tape measure and slides it around her hips as a control measurement. When Cate announces 37, Clonie says “maybe subtract an inch for the jeans.”
Everyone is jabbering about internet connection issues and body types, but we all shut up when Robert yells, “Ace-king in the big blind! Get it on, get it on, like Donkey Kong! ‘Cuz it’s goin’ in, goin’ in to the middle!”
There is a raise by Balfario. “240,000? I don’t think I have a choice just to call.” Miss Lulu pushes in for 1.47 million. Balfario folds.
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