When they returned to the felt, Dimitar and the Frenchman both made it through the money bubble at the final table. There were still four players left in the event that Dimitar had full notes on from Sam, and he was using them to full effect. Of the players who remained, only the Frenchman, an American pro, and a Finnish former tennis player were unknown to Dimitar. Sam had also warned Dimitar to avoid the Finnish player, replying when Dimitar had asked him how good he was with the words, ‘You don’t want to know.’
Sitting in the middle of the chipcounts, Dimitar watched as the Finn (he thought he heard him being called ‘Antonius’) got into a raising war with the Frenchman. The pair were first and second in chips, and the pot, which saw Antonius bust with a straight to the French player’s flush, put everyone remaining into a tough ICM spot.
‘I’m super-short.’ Dimitar told Sam on the next break. Sam told Dimitar that he was watching the live updates come through and that Dimitar needed to play more hands.
‘I have twelve big blinds.’
‘So raise or shove. You cannot call any more.’
‘There are still six of us left. Don’t get me wrong, €95,000 would be great but that’s only a profit of €70,000. There’s €350,000 up top.’
‘You’re making a rookie mistake if you think about the money, Dimitar.’
‘How can I not? Elena’s life might depend on me surviving to the final three places. Tell me why I should attack.’
‘To protect yourself. You’re an unknown quantity and you’ve been on the tight side. You’ve got to play against that image to assert yourself. Represent strong hands.’
Two more players departed while Dimitar was short and suddenly, the final table was down to four players – the French player, a Portuguese local who neither Dimitar nor Sam knew, and a young chess grandmaster named Magnus Chekhov. Dimitar was soon involved in a pot with him. Chekhov bet on the flop, but it was small. It felt like a thin value bet for a single pair to Dimitar, and – sitting on a flush draw – he heard Sam’s words in his head. He moved all-in, and the Estonian player folded.
‘You had top pair, right?’ he asked.
Dimitar threw his cards into the muck but one of them came loose. It matched the suit in which two cards came on the flop.
‘You didn’t want me to see that card?’ asked Chekhov, probing for a response. ‘Or you cannot throw nicely into the muck – like this?’
Magnus Chekhov proceeded to take both of his cards between his index and middle fingers on his right hand and flicked them into the pile so that they both landed face down beneath a pile of cards. Impossible to see, as quick as a magician.
‘Nicely done.’ Said Dimitar, smiling a little as he stacked up a little more than his opponent. The Estonian nodded and smiled back.
The local player was the next to bust, earning €160,000 when he lost a flip to the Frenchman. Then Dimitar picked up the goods – ace-king. He raised, Chekhov re-raised, then snap-called Dimitar’s resulting shove.
‘Ace-queen.’ Said Chekhov.
Dimitar turned over his ace-king quickly, and the dealer positioned the cards to the left and right of the place where he would fan the flop. It came nine-high rainbow. Neither of them had draws. Chekhov stood up, a rueful grimace on his face.
‘Looks like you got me,’ he said.
A queen landed on the turn. Dimitar had been stoic until that moment. Now, his insides wanted to escape through his mouth. He got up from his seat and rubbed his hands through his hair, finally showing his lack of professionalism.
He thought of his play and the set-up from the last hand, which gave him slightly more chips. He looked at the Frenchman to his left, enjoying the fact that he would soon be heads-up against either of his opponents with a big lead.
There seemed to be an intolerable pause between the dealing of the ‘burn’ card before the river and a fifth community card. Dimitar breathed deeply. If he lost, then he had made the best decision he could. He had got it in good and been unlucky. He would soon be out if he lost the hand, as he would have less than a single big blind to his name.
Then he flipped that thought.
If he won it – if a king landed – then he’d need to concentrate on winning the event, on winning the next hand.
He sat back down.
And a king landed on the river.
‘Good game,’ said Chekhov. ‘Good luck heads-up – you played great. A game of chess sometime?’
‘Hey, I’m not stupid!’ Dimitar smiled, and the two men shook hands.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now heads-up for the title. There will be a short five-minute break before we play to a winner.’ Said the Tournament Director, who as it passed midnight, was in no mood for the proceedings to last any longer than necessary.
‘You’re nearly there.’ Simone said as she embraced him. The French player came over to shake Dimitar’s hand.
‘Tu es vraiment un homme très chanceux.’ He said quickly, looking only at Simone. He refocused on Dimitar.
‘Philippe.’
‘Dimitar. Bon chance.’
The two men shook hands, and Philippe went to his own spot at the bar. Simone led Dimitar to the terrace bar. They could see out across the whole city. It was late, and apartment lights were flickering out almost by the second.
‘Only two words of French I know.’ Dimitar said. ‘Has he let anything else slip?’
‘Not about you.’ Simone said. ‘Or poker.’ she said, trying not to think about what Philippe had told his friend about how he wished it was her they were playing for.
Dimitar ordered a drink and looked at his cell phone as it beeped. Simone watched as Philippe left to sit on his own near the poker table, watching as their stacks were repositioned opposite each other for dramatic effect.
He looked over at her and raised his glass.
‘I just got a text from Sam,’ said Dimitar. Simone, momentarily distracted, returned to Dimitar’s gaze.
‘Oh, yes?’
‘He said no matter what happens tonight, I should get to Valencia in Spain as soon as I can. A big cash game is happening.’
‘Sounds promising. How big?’
‘Big enough to get me to a million if I play well.’
There wasn’t time to text Sam about what to do about Philippe, and the Frenchman wasn’t on the list of players Dimitar had researched.
About the Author: Paul Seaton has written about poker for over 10 years, interviewing some of the best players ever to play the game such as Daniel Negreanu, Johnny Chan and Phil Hellmuth. Over the years, Paul has reported live from tournaments such as the World Series of Poker in Las Vegas and the European Poker Tour. He has also written for other poker brands where he was Head of Media, as well as BLUFF magazine, where he was Editor.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.
