If you’ve played tournament poker long enough, eventually you’re going to experience every emotion the game has to offer.

You’ll feel unstoppable one minute and completely helpless the next.

You’ll celebrate deep runs, survive impossible spots, and every now and then, you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of a moment you’ll never forget.

Day 4 of the World Series of Poker Main Event gave me one of those moments.

I came into the day just seven eliminations away from the money. Four long days of poker had put me in position to cash once again, and while a min-cash is never the ultimate goal, it still represents surviving one of the toughest tournaments in the world.

The plan was simple: get through the bubble, build a stack, and make another deep run in Las Vegas.

Unfortunately, poker had a different script in mind.

Seven Players From the Money

When Day 4 started, nobody was really playing poker.

We were waiting.

Every table in the room knew exactly how close we were to the money, and that changes everything.

Normally, players are looking for edges.

Near the bubble, they’re looking for survival.

With only a middling stack, there wasn’t much incentive for me to force the action. I wasn’t short enough to panic, and I certainly wasn’t deep enough to bully the table.

So I did what I usually do in these spots.

I pulled out my iPad.

People always laugh when they see me watching a show during the Main Event, but honestly, the bubble can be incredibly slow. Once the tournament goes hand-for-hand, every table finishes a hand before another one begins. Dealers stand. Players wait. Everyone looks around the room trying to figure out who’s all in somewhere else.

It can take forever.

I’d rather stay relaxed than sit there overthinking every possible scenario.

The Energy in the Room Changes

The funny thing about the World Series of Poker bubble is that everyone else seems to get louder while I get quieter.

People start counting short stacks.

Spectators crowd around every all-in.

Every announcement gets a reaction.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting there watching my show.

That’s just how I’ve always handled it.

I’ve learned over the years that getting emotionally wrapped up in the bubble doesn’t help me make better decisions.

The excitement comes later.

Once everyone is guaranteed a payday, that’s when the tournament really begins.

One Hand Away

Eventually the tournament switched into full hand-for-hand play.

Now every all-in mattered.

The entire room would freeze while tournament staff updated everyone on eliminations across hundreds of tables.

One bust.

Two busts.

Double-ups everywhere.

The bubble just refused to burst.

Every time someone got all their chips in, they seemed to survive.

You could almost feel thousands of players silently begging for somebody else to bust first.

I’ve been through plenty of money bubbles during my career, but this one seemed to stretch on forever.

The Hand That Changed Everything

Then came my moment.

I got involved in a hand that looked fairly straightforward at first.

As the action unfolded, I found myself in one of those ugly river spots where the board paired in a way that completely changed the situation.

I ended up making the call.

If the river bricks, I simply fold and move on.

Instead, one of the few cards that convinced me to continue rolled off.

To make matters worse, I miscounted my stack during the hand and accidentally committed myself for my tournament life.

That’s on me.

I’ve played millions of hands over the years, and every once in a while something as simple as counting chips can come back to bite you.

When you’re mentally exhausted after four straight days of poker, mistakes happen.

I wasn’t happy about it, but there was no point dwelling on it.

The chips were already in the middle.

Waiting Is the Hardest Part

The strange thing about busting on the bubble isn’t the bust itself.

It’s the waiting.

Because we were still hand-for-hand, I couldn’t immediately know whether I had actually bubbled or whether enough players had busted elsewhere for me to cash.

So there I sat.

Tournament over.

Waiting.

Watching other all-ins unfold on giant screens around the room.

Every showdown suddenly mattered to me.

Normally I couldn’t care less who wins a random ace-king versus pocket fives race.

Now I needed people to bust.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

From Bubble Boy to Bubble Trio

Eventually the announcement came.

More than one player had been eliminated at the same time.

Instead of one official bubble, there would be multiple bubble finishers splitting the last payout.

Leave it to me to find a way to make World Series of Poker history in a completely different way.

I wasn’t the sole bubble.

I was one of three.

Trust me…

That’s still not exactly a title you’re hoping to earn.

At Least I Had Pocket Aces

The funny part?

The hand that officially eliminated another player happened to involve me waking up with pocket aces.

If you’re going to knock someone out, that’s not a bad way to do it.

People around the table joked about the irony.

The former World Series of Poker Main Event champion becoming part of the bubble story.

Only poker could write something like that.

Even in that moment, I couldn’t help laughing.

Sometimes that’s all you can do.

The Bubble Flip

As if the day hadn’t already been strange enough, there was still one more twist.

The bubble finishers had a chance to win an additional prize through a random flip.

Three players.

One seat.

Winner takes the bigger prize.

We joked around while they shuffled the cards.

I even managed to get a few laughs out of everyone despite the circumstances.

If you’ve watched me over the years, you know humor has always been my coping mechanism.

If I can’t laugh after busting, poker becomes a miserable game.

Unfortunately, I lost the flip too.

Of course I did.

Instead of the bigger prize, I walked away with my share of the split payout.

Sometimes that’s just how the deck decides the story ends.

Did I Really Waste Four Days?

Someone asked me afterward how I felt.

I answered honestly.

From one perspective, it felt like four days wasted.

Not because I didn’t cash.

Not because I lost money.

I actually broke even after everything was settled.

But nobody enters the WSOP Main Event hoping to min-cash.

You enter trying to win.

That’s always been my mindset.

Whether I bust on the bubble, on Day 5, or at the final table, it still hurts because the goal never changes.

You’re chasing another bracelet.

You’re chasing another championship.

You’re chasing another memory that lasts forever.

Looking at the Bigger Picture

Once the disappointment settled down, though, perspective started creeping back in.

This wasn’t some disastrous performance.

Quite the opposite.

Over the last several years, I’ve consistently made deep runs in the Main Event.

And if I’m being completely honest, I probably should have been eliminated on Day 1.

Then again on Day 2.

Maybe even Day 3.

Somehow I kept surviving.

Poker gives you those gifts every now and then.

Eventually it asks for one back.

This time it collected.

I walked away proud of how I played.

I made adjustments when I needed to.

Stayed patient.

Never panicked.

Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.

Why the Main Event Still Matters

One thing I’m especially excited about is seeing the World Series of Poker back on ESPN platforms.

Growing up, poker on television changed everything.

It inspired an entire generation—including me.

When poker became harder to watch, some of that momentum disappeared.

Now it’s back where millions of people can find it again.

That’s good for the game.

That’s good for new players.

And I honestly believe it’s going to help spark another wave of poker growth.

The more people who discover tournament poker, the healthier this game becomes.

Home… Maybe

Of course, the first message waiting for me after I busted came from my wife.

It was wonderfully simple.

“Book your flight.”

That’s married life.

Part of me immediately started wondering if I should fire another tournament while I was already in Las Vegas.

The other part of me knew exactly what the answer at home was probably going to be.

Still…

You never stop looking for the next opportunity.

That’s just how tournament players are wired.

The Summer Isn’t Over

Even though my WSOP Main Event came to an end, that doesn’t mean the poker stops.

There are still tournaments to play.

Content to create.

Trips to plan.

The Bahamas is already on the calendar, and there will probably be a few other stops before then.

One tournament never defines a year.

And one bad finish certainly doesn’t define a career.

Walking Away With Gratitude

As painful as this one was, I left Las Vegas feeling grateful more than anything else.

I’m 50 years old, and I still get excited to sit down in the biggest poker tournament in the world. I still feel that nervous energy before “shuffle up and deal.” I still love solving the puzzles that every table presents. And I still care enough that busting hurts.

That’s a good thing.

If losing ever stops bothering me, it’s probably time to quit.

The World Series of Poker Main Event has given me memories I’ll carry for the rest of my life. This year didn’t end the way I wanted, but it reminded me why I keep coming back.

You don’t chase greatness because it’s guaranteed.

You chase it because every once in a while, everything comes together.

This wasn’t my year.

But next year?

I’ll be right back in that chair, ready to shuffle up and deal all over again.