Coming back to Las Vegas for the World Series of Poker is usually one of my favorite feelings of the year.

This time, it started with me getting dropped off at the wrong casino.

We had just gotten back to Vegas after a nice little break. I’d gone to some World Cup games, handled some stuff around the house, and generally tried to reset before getting back to work. The plan was simple: check in, get settled, and immediately jump into the $5K Super Turbo Bounty.

Instead, we somehow ended up at Harrah’s when we needed to be at Paris.

That should have been my first warning.

I blamed my camera guy, obviously. He blamed me. I’m pretty sure it was his fault, and if I had busted the WSOP Main Event because of it, I was prepared to hold him personally responsible.

Eventually, we made it to the right place, and I was officially back at work.

The only problem was that the poker part of the job wasn’t going particularly well.

Back in Las Vegas and Straight Into the Action

One thing I do like about the WSOP these days is how easy it is to register. The new app makes the whole process pretty painless. You push a few buttons, and suddenly you’re in a $5,000 poker tournament.

You barely even feel the money leave.

That’s probably not a good thing.

Before playing, I needed food. I hadn’t eaten much besides some M&M’s, so I grabbed an $18 cheeseburger out of a warming tray. For $18, I expected it to at least be massive, and thankfully it was.

People always talk about changing everything when they come to Las Vegas for the World Series of Poker. They suddenly decide they’re going to eat perfectly, work out every day, sleep eight hours a night, and become a completely different person.

I’ve tried that before.

For me, it doesn’t work.

I think you’re better off eating and living somewhat close to how you normally do at home. Obviously, you don’t want to live on cheeseburgers and M&M’s for six weeks, but dramatically changing your routine right before playing some of the biggest poker tournaments of the year doesn’t make much sense either.

So I ate my burger and went to play the $5K Turbo Bounty.

That’s when things really started going downhill.

My Goal Became Winning One Freaking Hand

I played a couple of levels and barely got involved.

I started with 50,000 chips and dropped down into the high 30,000s without winning a single hand.

Not one.

I joked that I’d do one push-up for every hand I won in the tournament.

I did zero push-ups.

Eventually, with about 20,000 chips left and the blinds at 1,500, the button opened and I looked down at king-queen suited. Considering how the tournament had gone, it felt like a perfectly good spot to get the money in.

Unfortunately, my opponent had an ace.

I didn’t improve.

Tournament over.

I had officially returned to Las Vegas, played a $5K event, and failed to win one single pot.

That’s poker.

It wasn’t the start I wanted, but there wasn’t much time to sit around feeling sorry for myself. I headed to the sportsbook, watched some soccer, and tried to reset.

The problem was that even the soccer seemed determined to torture me.

At that point, I decided my only goal for the rest of the day was simple.

Win one freaking pot.

That was it.

Forget bracelets. Forget trophies. Forget the WSOP Main Event.

Just let me drag some chips in my direction one time.

Trying to Turn $2,000 Into a Main Event Seat

The next plan was to play a $2,000 satellite and try to win my $10,000 WSOP Main Event seat.

If I could win the satellite, I’d save $8,000 and maybe finally create some positive momentum.

Instead, I kept losing.

I played another tournament.

Still couldn’t win a hand.

I played another one.

Same story.

At one point, I was on my third tournament of the day and still trying to win my first hand.

Someone asked me how much I loved poker.

Normally, the answer is a lot.

That day?

About a three out of ten.

Life was still good. I was still at the World Series of Poker. I knew how fortunate I was to be there.

But poker is a lot more fun when you occasionally win a pot.

When the cards disagree with you, though, they really disagree with you. It doesn’t matter what you do. You can get the money in good, find a good bluffing spot, or wait patiently for a hand.

Sometimes, nothing works.

People always want advice for dealing with a bad run. Some will tell you to go down in stakes and rebuild your confidence. Others will jokingly tell you to go up in stakes and win your money back faster.

For most people, I strongly recommend ignoring that second piece of advice.

By this point, I was in for $11,000 on the day between the $5K and multiple satellite entries.

Things were looking bleak.

Finally, I Won a Pot

Then my camera guy disappeared for a while.

And suddenly, I started winning.

I’m not saying those two things are connected, but I’m also not saying they aren’t.

When he came back, I had chips.

Actual chips.

I had finally won a pot, and I can’t explain how much better that felt. I know it sounds ridiculous. I’ve played poker for decades. I’ve won the World Series of Poker Main Event. I’ve been through every kind of upswing and downswing you can imagine.

But when you’ve spent an entire day losing every hand you play, winning one pot feels like winning a tournament.

I immediately felt better.

Even if I busted, at least I had done something positive.

From there, I got close to winning the seat several times.

I took a bad beat with tens against fives when I was close to getting there.

Then I got close again and needed to dodge a five or a king.

I didn’t.

Then I tried to make a flush.

Missed that too.

Every time I got near the finish line, something went wrong.

Still, I kept going.

Pocket Kings Changed the Entire Day

Eventually, I found myself in position to win the seat again.

This time, I woke up with pocket kings.

An old friend of mine who had played on the Moneymaker Tour moved all in with ace-king. It was obviously an unfortunate situation for her because there wasn’t much she could do.

She picked up a king on the turn and an ace on the river, so the money was probably going in regardless.

This time, though, the kings held.

After starting the day by losing every single hand I played, I had finally won my $10,000 WSOP Main Event seat.

The entire day flipped.

Instead of losing $11,000, the day had effectively cost me $1,000.

In Las Vegas, losing $1,000 can feel like a pretty damn good day.

The funniest part was that winning the seat completely changed my schedule. I had planned to play another satellite the next day, but suddenly I didn’t need to.

I had a day off.

After the way the day started, I definitely wasn’t complaining.

Back on the WSOP Countdown Desk

The next day, I had some media work to do before Day 1C of the Main Event.

I joined Jeff Platt, David Williams, and Joe Stapleton for the WSOP Countdown show from the Paris Ballroom.

Anytime Joe Stapleton is involved, I know I’m going to get abused.

This time was no different.

They introduced me as the 2003 World Series of Poker Main Event champion, a Poker Hall of Famer, and the man credited with starting the “Ramer Boom.”

Joe had apparently been waiting about five years to make that joke.

Unfortunately, it still made me laugh.

We talked about the World Series, the Main Event, bracelet winners, and eventually my 2003 win.

They showed the old footage of the bluff against Sammy Farha, which people still bring up to me all these years later.

People look at that hand now and talk about blockers.

I didn’t even know what blockers were back then.

Watching the footage is still strange for me. People assume I sit around the house replaying the 2003 WSOP Main Event all the time.

I don’t.

I’ve probably watched it five times in 23 years.

But when I do see it, I still get goosebumps.

I also notice things I never noticed before.

I look at myself during that bluff and realize I was giving off every tell in the world.

The biggest one?

I wasn’t breathing.

Apparently, that worked.

The Moneymaker Effect Still Feels Surreal

We also talked about what happened to poker after 2003.

The year I won, the Main Event had 839 players.

The next year, it jumped to 2,576.

The year after that, it went to 5,619.

People started calling it the Moneymaker Effect.

That’s still one of the strangest things for me to think about. You never expect something like that to happen when you’re just a guy trying to play a poker tournament.

I didn’t create the term. I don’t even know exactly where it started.

But it’s obviously pretty cool.

People are still asking what the next Moneymaker Effect will be.

That’s something that will probably outlive me.

Back in 2003, people didn’t even believe Moneymaker was my real name. I had to show my ID constantly because the media thought I had made it up.

They didn’t want to put me on ESPN because they thought the name was fake.

Twenty-three years later, I’m sitting on a WSOP broadcast desk talking about the effect that somehow ended up carrying that same name.

Poker is weird.

Why the Main Event Still Feels Like Christmas

After the show, I had most of the day free.

I considered playing the $2K event. I thought about playing cash. I could have gotten into a big cash game, but I didn’t want to get heavily involved in something the day before the Main Event.

Instead, I decided to play a low-key $1K landmark satellite.

The goal wasn’t really about the money.

I wanted to stay fresh.

I wanted to pick up reads, make decisions, and feel good going into the next day.

The Main Event is different from every other poker tournament I play.

I play bigger buy-ins.

I’ve played higher-pressure situations.

I don’t really get nervous anymore.

But I still get excited for the World Series of Poker Main Event.

It’s basically Christmas for me now.

When my kids were younger, Christmas was staying up late and putting together presents. Now they’re older, and the Main Event has become my Christmas.

It happens once a year.

Everybody wants to win it.

And most importantly, you only get one shot.

That’s a huge part of what makes it special. There are no reentries. If you’re out, you’re out.

I really hope they never change that.

A reentry would kill some of the mystique.

One More Session Before the Big One

The satellite went pretty well.

I got my stack up to around 60,000 and found a few good spots.

One hand stood out.

We went six ways to a queen-nine-five flop with two hearts. Everybody checked.

A deuce came on the turn, and it checked around to the button, who bet 1,200.

I started thinking about what he could realistically have.

He checked the flop with six players in the hand. Then a deuce came on the turn.

What suddenly improved?

Not much.

I had king-jack with a straight draw, so I raised to 5,200.

He called.

The river was a complete blank, and I put him in.

He thought for about 15 seconds and folded.

Those are the kinds of hands I wanted to play before the Main Event. I wanted to trust my reads, find good spots, and make decisions without forcing anything.

When you play well, you get rewarded.

In my case, that reward was ice cream.

I ate the healthy food first.

Then I got three scoops.

That’s called balance.

Ready for the World Series of Poker Main Event

The tournament eventually caught up with me.

I lost nines against ace-jack.

Of course I did.

I lost the two flips I played and finished the day down another $1,000.

But unlike the day before, I felt good about how I played.

I found some good bluffs.

I built chips.

I stayed patient when I wasn’t getting hands.

Most importantly, I felt ready.

There was another $2K tournament later that night, and I could have played it.

I decided not to.

Sometimes, the best poker decision is knowing when you’ve done enough.

The next morning, I had an ESPN pickleball session, and then at 11:00, it was time for the Main Event.

So I went back to the room.

No fireworks.

No late-night tournament.

No need to force more action.

The first day back in Las Vegas had started with me getting dropped off at the wrong casino and losing every single hand I played. At one point, I was in for $11,000 and wondering if I was ever going to drag another pot.

By the end of it, I had my WSOP Main Event seat.

That’s poker.

A miserable day can turn around with one hand.

A great day can disappear just as quickly.

You can’t control the cards, but you can keep showing up, keep making decisions, and keep giving yourself another chance.

I survived the bad start.

I won the seat.

And now it was Christmas Eve.

Time to play the Main Event.