THE PHIL HELLMUTH DREAM

Some people know that I love to have fun with seven deuce. It is absolutely my favorite garbage hand, and I can play it pretty well. Once I had seven deuce back-to-back. I raised both pots before the flop, bet them like aces the whole way, had to show down both hands, and won both pots, once with two pair and once with a flush. Dealer Hector (and other people) were amazed. Hector said he'd never even done that with aces. I have also never done that with aces, which I have had back-to-back on at least four occasions. Usually, I lose them both!

Anyway, my dream about Phil Hellmuth is just too silly. Somehow, we are heads up for a big WSOP tournament win, not the main event, but a bracelet event nonetheless. Being as nobody is as good as Phil (according to him), I am merely happy to be there. I have also survived with him on my right - a minor miracle. In my dream, Phil is on the button with pocket aces. Because there is only me left to bother with, he decides to trap me and limps in. I look down at seven deuce off suit. Now, in a low limit cash game, this would be a fun spot to raise, but in my dream it is a big WSOP tournament and we are the only two left, so I check. The flop is A-2-2. Phil has flopped a full house and I have three 2s. At this point, because Phil has limped in, I think I might have the best hand, so I check it to him. He thinks he is being clever and checks back to me, hoping to trap me on the turn. The case deuce falls on the turn. I am jumping up and down inside and I calmly (or as calmly as possible) check it to Phil. Phil makes a bet that is about one-third the size of the pot. He really wants a call, doesn't he? It's very difficult for him to put me on a deuce because there are three of them on the board. I let him squirm for about a minute and smooth call him. I can't see his face very well because he has his hands up in front of his mouth in the patented Phil pose, but I'm sure he's smirking under there.

On the river, I decide to let him have it. I make a pot-sized bet. I never wear sunglasses like some players, so I just look down at the table and try not to breathe. He almost beats me in the pot with his aces full of deuces and raises all in. I take about one-half second to call him and when I turn over my seven deuce and I win the tournament, he explodes. He rants and raves and calls me an idiot and all that fun stuff that he always does, and I calmly look at him and say, "I can dodge bullets, baby!" The crowd goes wild. Phil stomps off. I get to have my picture taken with a pile of money and my favorite garbage hand and I have a great story to tell the people back at the Crazy Moose and a WSOP bracelet to show off. Oh my, life is good. If only it was as good as this dream - ha!