2009 DCC Trip Report, Part 1

lfigueroa

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Ah yes.

The Derby.

Version 200.9.

Once again (given a year for the bruising to heal), I thought, yeah, I wanna go.

And so, I sent in my monies for the 1pocket, dropped off the wife at the airport at 6am on Sunday, so she could go see some friends and teach a class in Florida, and went on my merry, 250 mile way to the tune of the original Broadway recording of "Jersey Boys." (Not sure if "Big Girls Don't Cry," or "Walk Like a Man," is the appropriate musical background for this trip.) As an additional side note, given that my wife chose sunshine and 80 degree weather, and I chose the developing Ice Age in KY, there should never be a future discussion as to who, between us, is the smarter of the two :)

From St. Louis, it's the same drive East, as always, except Google gave me a turnoff about 25 miles before Louisville, that had about three dozen left and right turns. But I figured whadda hey. I was even impressed by the "Tournament" thisaway signs out in the middle of nowhere and thought, "Wow. They've really out done themselves this year," only to discover the signs led to some high school wrestling event. After seven miles of who knows what direction I was heading in, I returned to good old 64 and figured there would be a billboard or something to show the way.

I finally found the quaint burg of New Albany, across the river from Louisville, drove the eight miles along the river, and approached, what would become my prison and sanctuary, for the next four days. The Horseshoe.

It's actually a pretty impressive structure. Kinda of a mini-Las Vegas looking thing. I parked in the multi-story lot, (only to discover later that there is another parking lot closer to the hotel). But, since it was before noon, I figured I'd just wander about, get the lay of the land and check-in later.

I have to say that, overall, the tournament area is a big upgrade from the EW. Much swanker, as these things go -- with one problem: the tables in the main tournament room are right on top of each other. I mean -- it is *tight* quarters. The other various rooms, nooks, and crannies on the second floor with additional tables, were about on about a par with the EW upstairs rooms, except that, other than the larger room over the tournament area entry, there was very little spectator space. If you were playing in the smaller rooms, or the 14.1 challenge room, or AZ room, you were playing to crickets and the endless string of Doorway Head Poppers, who would lean in for a second and then move on to greener pastures.

The other thing about the upstairs rooms were the itty bitty lights. I mean: It Sucked to be playing under these undersized table lights (bar table size) on a 9' table.

That night Efren played SVB in the TAR Pit. There was so little spectator room, it looked like VJ Day on Times Square, with people spilling out of the room, hanging off the light posts to get a view. (OK, OK, they didn't have any light posts, but there were people sitting on the portable bar station.)

They actually got the 1pocket tournament off an impressively early start, though be it with a limited number of tables. Once again, it's a case of: you want in, you're in -- fergetabout that we have fewer tournament tables than before. We'll just make you all suffer and run up your hotel, food, and bar tab, and keep you here as long as it takes :)

Right off, I decided that if I didn't immediately enter the 14.1 challenge, I'd keep putting it off and find a million reasons not to do it. So I paid my entry to just give it a go and got a 42 my second effort. That's as high as I got in a total of 12 tries, over three days. It may not sound like much, but that was actually pretty good for me (though my personal goal was get a 50). Oh well. Still, a pleasure to see Bob J and Bill M again. And to meet Dennis W. And to see Schmidt run a 150 sumthin' and Harriman a 90 somethin'.

I got lucky and that afternoon was called to play in the first flight of the first round and played Tom Teschner in an upstairs room. Tom shot straight and had me by the Brazilians, but, let me up. Lou wins 3-0. Time for multiple Coronas.

After touring the grounds, I figured I'd treat myself to the steak house for dinner and had a really good fillet and lobster. I mean, really first boat, and I recommend it. I got to chat with a couple of female poker players sitting at the bar with me and it was quite pleasant.

I also played some cheap 1pocket with Ike Runnels. This seems to be something we do every tournament and I tell him, "Look, why don't I just open up my wallet and you take what you want?" But he's willing to play cheap and I will say the following in all sincerity: Ike is a great player. I mean great. And if you want to do yourself a favor, when you see him somewhere, go up and offer to play some $10 1pocket and it will be an amazing, eye-opening, no-kidding, major learning experience. His touch, control of the cue ball, and creativity are truly amazing and you won't regret it. I don't say that about many players.

Around 1am, it was off to bed for moi.

And now a word about the rooms at the Horseshoe. They're OK. Nicely decorated, but a little worn, with linens that have been washed one time too many and are too small for the beds. The towels smell like kerosene. I asked for a "Non-smoking" room, and I have no doubt that the only time no one had smoked in that room, was while I was in it. It stunk of cigarette smoke. And, pray you have quiet neighbors, because the walls are like tissue paper. Normally, I stay at nice paces and hotel noise is not an issue. But here, the walls must be made of tissue paper. Two Asian ladies on one side who decide to recite the phone book in Chinese; a couple on the other, who, at 2am decide it was "the right time of the night."

"Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh."

And so it went for a while.

Lou Figueroa
 
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