Kong (Anonymous) says

Great job... I actually read it from beginning to end. Mostly for the pictures of course!

04/03/08

lakeoffire says

Maybe your best review to date. You must have been in the V.I.P section. Next time bring me plz.

04/03/08

Landlord79 says

Another great delivery by Edmond the courageous. More pics of the girls please!

04/03/08

Mr_Taterhead says

We want pics. We want pics.

Nice write up.

Sounds like you need to hire a few bussers at ClubOne. Get on that.

04/03/08

acesnsane says

Great read and nice pics, this was definitely a fun event at the commerce. The food and everyone was great, good times!

04/04/08

TheCommerce says

You failed to mention how you were GIVING BODY SHOTS......

04/07/08

EdmondDantes says

Oh right. Forgot about that...

04/07/08

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An early omen

The tone for the day was set shortly after I met LakeofFire for breakfast at the Radisson in downtown Fresno. I was nursing a cup of bad coffee and shaking off yet another 16-hour shift of bussing tables and running chips at Club One when an angry troll jumped from behind a plant and shrieked something about the breakfast buffet. Lake’s traveled with me enough to know that mornings, for me, are edgy times and moved to diffuse the situation.

“Just turn away, Ed. I’ll handle this.”

He muttered something to the creature in guttural dialect and threatened it with a spoon, and it immediately slunk back to its cave. The beast reappeared twice more in the next twenty minutes, first to threaten me with scalding water and second to extort me with a toll receipt for safe passage. Both times Lake stepped in, first to glare it down, and second to convince me to pay the tribute and move on.

“Fresno’s an incestuous place,” he reminded me. “No telling which local authority calls this thing kin and we’ve no time for an overnight stay in the local lockup. Tonight’s the Free FM 97.1 Free-roll at the Commerce Casino. Remember?”






The allegations include…

Ah, yes. Repeat readers may recall our shameful involvement in the Dec 07 version of this sordid event. That one left the Commerce’s magnificent tournament room in shambles with Conway and Whitman listeners/erstwhile poker players looting TVs and furniture when the event spun wildly out of control. It took several days of round-the-clock work by the maintenance staff to restore the luster of the room, and several more of impassioned lobbying to keep hosts David Mosikian and John Griffo from inside front cover placement in the Casino’s banned book.

Earlier in the week, Mosikian had emailed me with an elegant invite.

“Dude, they dropped the charges AND the lawsuit! We’re doing the freeroll again!”

I was game, of course—Griffo and Mosikian go through life like merry fugitives, expecting to get caught and punished but committed to having fun in the meantime. That said, I presumed they were smart enough to realize the immediate civil and criminal ramifications of another on-air melee and had taken steps to minimize their exposure. I pressed them for details on how they planned to avoid another fiasco.

Griffo assured me that security would be a non-issue. They had recruited more Leykettes girls, reinforced them with a trio of hotties from Knob Creek bourbon and expanded the buffet to leave even the most rowdy participant comatose. In addition, he pointed out that the 97.1 FreeFM guys would deliver Danny Bonaduce , whose own shenanigans would likely establish a floor for bad behavior. This is a man, he noted, who as a child lived with David Cassidy and Susan Dey on a used school bus, and as an adult, engaged in fisticuffs with a transvestite, a Survivor contestant and Donny Osmond as a matter of public record. Griffo was confident even the most abhorrent acts by tournament participants would look tame by comparison.

Mosikian chimed in. “We figure if we stuff the listeners at the buffet and dull their senses with single batch bourbon, they’ll be too sluggish to cart off the ATMs again. Plus, Conway insisted the girls have all been properly trained in crowd control and showed me a DVD of one of them as proof. Besides, it looks like those welts and paper cuts you got from the flying chips and cards healed without a scar. Quit being such a wuss. You’re coming.”

These were the same savvy marketers that came up with the “Let’s just toss Asian models with fistfuls of cash into the pai gow pit” Chinese New Year celebration documented here two months ago. I was no match for the tag team—Griffo’s reasoned arguments and Mosikian’s breezy confidence brought me around. I marked the event on my calendar and posted Lake. Hence, his concern now that we avoid being unnecessarily detained in Fresno.


The Free FM Freeroll

Lake and I spent the day at Club One and headed south around 3p or so. The run down to Commerce went without incident and I pulled into the valet lot around 7p, plenty of time before the 8p start. I pitched my keys to the attendant, hustled up to the second floor and reviewed the situation for the 2R team. I liked what I saw. Lake had rolled in separately with one of my partners and was getting hammered in the Arena sports bar. I texted him and a couple other 2R writers with entry details.

“Meet me in the tournament room ASAP. This is a sick setup!”

As promised, the buffet for tournament participants was expanded to include chilled crab and shrimp, a variety of Asian dishes including dim sum, carved roast beef and a complete dessert setup. Last time, the Commerce set the buffet up in the tournament room, but this time they moved the whole setup out to the 2nd floor patio overlooking the pool area and main entrance to the casino.

Predictably, I found Mosikian parked near the bar.

“Dude! Glad you could make it!”

I complimented him on the spread.

“There wasn’t room in the tournament room for everything we wanted to put out. “ he confided. “And, out here, if we had to, we could just hose the whole place down at the end of the night. By the way, I put you at the featured table.”

His hospitality was a welcome change from the cheap buffets and brush offs I’m used to at other casinos, and Lake and I each filled a plate. As I ate, I watched Commerce restaurant staffers scurrying around like chip runners in a charity re-buy, bringing out endless platters of first class food. Gotta give these guys credit, they know how to spread a feast.

Uh, can I get a "to go" box?













After a couple of trips back to the shrimp stack, I waddled from the patio to the tournament room to find my seat. Griffo’s crowd management plan was obviously working. I felt more inclined to take a nap than play poker.


The stage thus set…

The Free FM broadcast setup was the same as last time with hosts Conway and Bonaduce up on the stage at the front of the room. Earlier in the week, the station announced that Whitten was leaving the show, but Conway and his production staff moved on without a hitch. As for Bonaduce, when I last saw him, he was face down in a puddle of his own blood, murdered by the “Miniature Killer” on CSI. I’m happy to report that he is alive, well and an entertaining radio personality. He’s now got his own show, The Danny Bonaduce Show, weekdays from 2-3p on 97.1 Free FM and shared his own twisted views on life.

Well, I was pretty wasted so I really don't remember...



Through the course of the show, he and Conway fielded calls about being involuntarily tossed from a casino and interviewed the Leykette girls on what they did for a living when fully-clothed. Bonaduce offered up candid insights on his own drunken and debauched behavior and responded to a listener inquiry about how he avoided becoming a pornstar when his career soured in the 90s. Other topics included how strip clubs fare in a recession and careful assessment of the Leykette girls calendar in the context of the station’s sexual harassment policy.

Ok, let's review. If her jeans sit low on her hips, we're in a recession...



At one point, Bonaduce pitched the concept of a threesome with his girlfriend and, Gina, one of the Free FM staffers. Now if I tried to set up a threesome with my wife in the privacy of our home, I’d likely spend the next three weeks eating takeout food in the garage. Not so, Bonaduce. He had his girlfriend and Gina intrigued on stage, in public, and can reference a recorded on-air transcript for confirmation.

Danny Partridge, salesman.



Overall, all the topics covered by Conway and Bonaduce were a refreshing change from the election year drivel to which we’ve been subjected by most talk radio hosts. Public intoxication, gambling, strip clubs and lewd behavior? These were the real issues on the minds of the electorate and Conway and Bonaduce were courageous enough to confront each of them head on. If you’d like to hear their platform or Bonaduce’s artful pitch for his ménage-a-trois, you can hear the podcasts here.


Dodgeball!

Enough on talk radio; we were here for poker. The tournament structure was 1000 starting chips and 25/50 blinds—the rough equivalent of playing dodge ball at point blank range—but it was free and the Commerce added a prize pool of six thousand dollars and iTunes gift cards so no one was complaining. In fact, Mosikian spent most of the night playing Godfather to the endless stream of sycophants anxious to get invited back to the next event. It was pretty nauseating to witness, but I’d probably do the same in a similar position.

“Hey [your name here], nice to see you! Glad you could make it. What? Of course, there’ll be spot for you next time. Always. Hey, I meant to ask you…what’s the price for some new rims for the Lexus? What? No, I couldn’t. That wouldn’t be right. Well, ok…if you insist. I’ll drop the car off Monday…”

The “featured” table was really a collection of riff-raff handpicked by Mosikian and appeared to comprise players to whom he was related or owed money. Early in the tournament, the Knob Creek girls hovered by our table, seduced by the notion of “featured” players. They were struggling to hold an absurd amount of swag so I offered to find a good home for some items.

“A Knob Creek flask? Well, as it turns out, I AM a bourbon drinker. This will come in handy on those long nights editing the home page. How about one of those t-shirts? What, I have to choose? Ok, how about one of those pens…”

Tools of the trade



Ok, one for the fellas fighting overseas...




The hands

As you might guess given the structure, there’s not much skill involved in one of these freeroll tournaments. It’s kind of like being a carpenter with a Fisher-Price toolbox. You can make some noise and have some fun, but it’s probably not something you can count on for rent money. In any event, I had a few hands worth noting.

With the blinds at 25/50, I raised with AKs and took the pot. Ok, that sounded better on tape.

I called in position with 55. Bet at 832 board and took it. Edmond the Courageous.

I called in position with 55 again. I called a small flop bet and folded to sizable turn bet. Edmond the Timid.

Sitting with 1000 chips and the blinds at 50/100, I pushed with JJ, got two callers and was unanimously criticized by the table for overplaying a premium hand. Uh, ok.

After some skilled play I’d prefer not to discuss, I was sitting with 1475 in chips, and in a massive hand, a set of fours cleared four players from our table. Clarification: a massive hand, in which I was not involved.

With about 2000 chips, I called in position yet again with 55 and hit middle set on a 549 board. Checked to me, I bet 350 into a 650 pot and took the pot. So you guys call everyone else with bottom pair, gutter draw…but not me…

In the spirit of the night, I donked off half my stack on some piece of trash hand, and shortly after the blinds jumped to 200/400 with a 25 ante, I moved in with A4o for my last 1200 chips. I was insta-called by two hands including 97s by the big blind.

A9x. Fine. Turn J. River 9. Bah.

I was out.


You again?

After I busted, I had some time to look around. I have to give the Commerce guys credit—they know how to lure them in. Through radio spots and an email campaign, they had about 3000 applicants for 450 tournament seats. I counted another 70 or so alternates for a total of 520 participants. Even better for the home team, the players seemed to roll over into cash games as soon as they busted from the tournament.

Nice crowd for a Thursday



A typical Thursday night at the Commerce will feature 8-12 baby NL games (1/1 blinds $40 max buy-in) running. Tonight as the tournament broke down, I counted 20. That’s more low stakes NL games than most Vegas poker rooms have TABLES. 180 players committed to low stakes NL—frightening…but impressive!

Hanging around the snack bar, I ran into both the #1 and #2 finishers (Paul Hsu and Michael Friedman, respectively) at the prior 97.1 Freeroll. I re-introduced myself to Michael (the #2 finisher), who seemed genuinely flattered that I picked him from the crowd.

“Wow. How did you recognize me?”

He clearly didn’t understand how the blog editing process works.

“I stared at your picture repeatedly one weekend. Your mug still haunts me.”

He commented that he exited the tournament when his AA fell to AKo, all-in pre-flop, and was surprisingly nonchalant about the nasty beat. “It happens,” he said. “But this is a cool event. I’ll be back.”

As luck would have it, I saw Paul Hsu (the winnah last time) loitering nearby and reunited him and Michael for a photo op.

At least one guy recognized us!




I later asked Mosikian if he conned them into attending using the pretext of a sponsor’s exemption, but he insisted they returned on their own initiative. What? Hsu had never been to Commerce prior to the last event and now he was a cash game regular. And Friedman was laughing off a gross 15 to 1 beat and vowing to return. It was clear that this freeroll concept has merit.

I stopped by the Leykettes girls and picked up a poster/calendar to replace the other one I’d worn out and grabbed some gratuitous photos for the 2R staff.

If it’s only guys in the office, there’s no sexual harassment problem, right?



Hmmm…is it a puppy?




Killing time, I wandered downstairs to the main poker room. I noticed that it was kind of a quiet Thursday overall, but still, Commerce had sixteen 4/8 games going. SIXTEEN. This, of course, filled me with lust—if we had two 4/8s going at my regular room, we’d be beside ourselves. I cleared my mind of the vengeful thoughts and went back upstairs to check on the tournament progress.


The field narrows

10:00p…11 tables left.
10:40p…4 tables left.

Funny. I liked the structure a lot better when I was out and waiting for the tournament to end.

As the field wound down, I spent some time with the floor staff chatting about local food joints. We agreed that the best local steakhouse is Dal Rae, an old school place in Pico Rivera, and for pizza, Bollini's Pizzeria in Monterey Park. Mosikian rattled off his favorites for burgers (Ari’s), tacos (Taco Village) and chili dogs (who knows?) but honestly I didn’t give much credence to his recommendations. I’m sure he’s got an open tab at all those places and looking for any way possible to close them out.

Suddenly, without warning, the bubble broke at 11p. The tournament paid to 27 places with $50 to the first few money spots. I didn’t even know they were close—no tense, drawn out bubble battle here, just a few nudges and “Hey, wait…I think we’re in the money…”. Of course, big cheer erupted when all 27 realized they just locked in $10/hour and a free meal for the night’s work. Not only that, they were now within striking distance of some decent money. First place $1700; second place $1100. Even an untrained observer like me could tell that was real dough for these cretins.

At 11:40p, there were still two tables but barely. Finally, at eleven players, one player moved in with A4o but survived when he hit his flush at the river. Still short, he moved in on the next hand with Q9s and was called by the big blind with Ax. The flop brought an ace and a roar from the other players. He turned a Q and rivered his 9 which brought a howl of protest until the spectators pointed out that the 9 gave the other player a flush. Final table!

They broke for ten minutes and, I overheard the winner recapping the hand for a friend. “He hit his queen, but then I rivered a straight!” Or a flush maybe, hon. What’s not to love about freeroll players?

Final table!



Your first time? Seriously? I had no idea...




As they were seating the final table, one of the railbirds came up to me.

“Hey, man…those girls that were with the radio show were talking about you. One of them thought you were her type!”

O rly?

“Did it occur to you to mention that to me before they left the building?”

Come on now. I’m happily married, but did he even stop to think my wife might like some confirmation that her husband still has curb appeal? Pretty thoughtless, if you asked me.


Ya basta with the ocho!

The final table got going shortly after midnight and dragged a little bit. There was no tension really, but there was a fair bit of showboating by all the final-tablers. It was the first, and perhaps last, final table appearance for most and they wanted to enjoy the moment. As for the play, it had all the drama, enthusiasm and civility of a frat house food fight.

Two of the final group mirrored the antics of Humberto Brenes involving their card protectors in even minor decisions. From your living room, watching Brenes rant on ESPN gets tiresome. At 1a when you’re sweating the end of a live tournament so you can get a few pics of the winner and get the hell out of there, watching someone mimick Brenes leaves you homicidal.

One player insisted that I get a shot of his card protector/savior, Ocho. Against my better judgment and taste, I’m presenting it here.

Next time, consider using a live pitbull




Uh, kings are good…

Paul Hsu, again the winner last time, was sweating one of the final table participants. He’s a good guy and we laughed about some of the awkward moves we saw. In fairness, the final table stack sizes (about 6x the BB) didn’t leave much room for decision-making. It was shove or be shoved upon, and hope your hand would prevail—Darwinism…with outs.

The event finally spun down to last two players, and despite a 2 to 1 chip disadvantage, Mike Kilker, a 21-year-old aspiring pro, looked good to take the title. The chip leader, Ted Hampton, was a likable, 40-ish guy who seemed to be playing in his first live event and just happy to have something for his kids to brag about. Hsu and I both liked Kilker’s chances.

Heads up



Through aggressive raising, Kilker took a chip lead but gave it back when his Ax didn’t hold against Hampton’s Jx. Now struggling for chips, Kilker button-shoved J5o. Oops. Hampton turned over pocket kings and it was over. Silly me, thinking the poker god assigned to the Commerce was something other than a sadist. Kilker picked up his $1100 and Hampton pocketed $1700 and the title.

Runner-up: Mike Kilker



The Winnah: Ted Hampton




Conclusion

I’ll be honest. At the start of the evening, if anyone had offered the action, I’d have bet my bankroll that Griffo and Mosikian would finish the evening in Men's Central facing multiple charges of moral turpitude and hocking their watches to make bail. But watching the crowd and listening to general feedback, I’d have to concede their freeroll event was, once again, a massive crowd pleaser.

The rail at most tournaments is lined with grim and tired faces and bad beat stories are thick in the air like flies around picnic trash. On the rail at the Commerce/97.1 Free FM Freeroll, people were laughing as they busted out—fat and happy, literally and figuratively—and it was clear that every one of the railbirds was looking forward to the next one. As for me, I’d be back, of course. I had unfinished business...

“Ok, take your time and focus. Which one was it?”





Edmond