As the nine remaining players were slowly whittled down to six at the poker felt, the tension and excitement on the Cruise to a Million grew exponentially. Both Dimitar and Slim made the final six, but the Bulgarian had fewer chips than anyone else. Sitting as the short stack when Slim busted a cheerful Norwegian gentleman in seventh place, the last remaining tourist went to the rail. Four professionals and Slim McCoy stood in Dimitar’s way of the $279,000 top prize.
After play concluded, Simone was the first to congratulate Dimitar. She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.
‘You’re so close!’ she said. Having established that she was getting friendly with Dimitar, her manager had taken her off the dealing team for the event. She’d been working ‘the pit’ all day, raking in the biggest profit margin for the casino on games like roulette, craps, and three-card poker. She’d only arrived at the rail to the feature table a few moments before play ended for the night.
‘I’m a long way away, Simone.’ Dimitar said. ‘Sixth in chips? I have about 10% of his stack.’
Slim arrived on cue and patted his newest friend on the back.
‘Totally deserved, young man. You played the best poker at the table.’
‘I have the smallest stack.’
‘You have a chance. Nothing else matters.’
Dimitar accepted the congratulations, but he was exhausted. They all shared a drink, then went their separate ways. Simone didn’t seem broken-hearted that Dimitar wanted to be alone to prepare for the final table, she seemed to understand. Either that or she had plans. Slim was more than keen to get to his bed.
What seemed like a long blink later, Dimitar was awake, and it was almost time to play. The midday sun was high over the ship in a cloudless sky, and it was 35 degrees in the shade on deck. Deep in the bowels of the ship’s casino, however, it was a regulation 18 degrees as air-conditioned coolness blew around the only table left in the Cruise to a Million event -the final table.
There seemed to be a hundred different things that happened during the build-up, even though it might only have been a dozen. Players were asked to complete questionnaires about their favorite hand and pose for photos. Picture of them grasping for the trophy just out of reach, sitting in their designated seats, staring at each other for the purposes of hype.
All Dimitar wanted to do was play.
When the action finally began, an early showdown between the other two shorter stacks went in Dimitar’s favor. The at-risk player lost with pocket tens to the other’s pocket kings. Perfect, down to five, thought Dimitar. Soon, it was his turn to commit all of his chips, and he doubled up, his ace-king holding with ease against the ace-queen belonging to Slim’ biggest threat, a strong Swedish player wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. Soon, Dimitar was fourth in chips. The only player with fewer chips than him was all-in from the small blind just a few hands later. Slim had been watching the player intently since the final table started and called it off with a suited queen-ten. The player had pocket sixes, and the queen, which fell on the river, meant only four players remained.
Dimitar needed to wait for Slim to be free, as the media company wanted an interview with the chip leader. So he waited at the bar with Simone.
‘Two rungs up the ladder,’ Slim said when he and Dimitar met. The two men shook hands, and the American kissed Simone on both cheeks.
‘I made the first break at least.’
‘You’re still in there. Our Norwegian friend seems very capable. But the German has been very quiet. You’re closing in on him.’
‘I’m close enough to cause damage at least. Good call from the blinds. He made a lot of small pairs, didn’t he?’
‘He’s a great player. Won $10m online just in tournaments and he made the final table of the Main Event.’
‘Really? God. I’m glad you took him out.’
‘I got lucky. They say you’ve got to win your flips to win a tournament.’
Soon they returned to the action. The German player, Dietmar, was out shortly after restarting, losing with ace-king to Slim’ pocket kings. Everything was going his way. That left Dimitar short and when he called the Norwegian player’s opening bet to see a flop of jack-six-six, he moved all-in with his jack-ten. There was a quick call from Dimitar’s opponent and he saw the bad new, ace-six.
Dimitar was crestfallen. Even more so when no miracle came to keep him in the tournament. He had won $80,300 in third place.
One hour and two drinks later, Slim had his man, and after the winner’s photos were taken, he went to celebrate with Dimitar and Simone.
‘I’m sorry it went my way. I thought you played the best poker at the final table.’ Slim said.
‘Thanks. But that last hand…’
‘He had ace-rag, you worked it out. The rag was a six, that’s all.’
‘The number I always bet on roulette. I call for the devil, and today he got me instead.’
Dimitar went to order another drink, but his cell rang.
‘Great result, my friend,’ Sam Houston said.
‘That news travelled fast.’
‘I watched it online. Feeling good?’
‘It never feels good to lose.’
‘You won $80,000, Dimitar. That’s great it means you’re over $100,000. I have some other good news if you’re prepared to make a detour.’
‘What kind of a detour?’
‘Have you ever been to Portugal?’
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.