Hypothetical Situation: how would you prepare for the final day

[plaid]

Hypotehetical Situation: Your playing in one of the WSOP events. You're in the top 20% in chips going into the final day of play (let's say there are 50 players left). Just being in this position is by far a personal poker best for you. Last night's play ended at 4am. Play resumes at 2pm. It's 11am now, you're in a cramped hotel room, you've gotten all of 2 hours of sleep, and now you're wide awake. You're mind is going 100 miles an hour between last night's plays, today's action, what you should do to look good for the TV final table, calling all your friends and a little voice telling you to get more sleep.

Question: You've got 3 hours before play resumes. How do you spend this time? What are you trying to accomplish?

[plaid]

[ QUOTE ]
Question: You've got 3 hours before play resumes. How do you spend this time? What are you trying to accomplish?

[/ QUOTE ]

Answering My Own Question: I'm thinking I must get my mind off poker for three hours. Would love to sleep, but trying to do so would probably be a waste of time. I'm either going swimming / hot-tubbing, getting a haircut or am going to get a full spa treatment (never had one before, but imagine that could only help). My goal for the next three hours is to get a clear head - that would give me the best chance to keep up the momentum. I think I am fighting the urge to cram as much poker learnin' from HoH and ToP that I can manage in 3 hours.

[toots]

Poor question.

I woulda been up at 4:00 AM waking my friends and family up in the middle of the night to tell them where they can pick up their tickets to come watch me be the first to bust out on the final day.

Then, because I've never encountered so much stress/anxiety that I couldn't sleep through it, I'd sleep through it.

Then, I'd be the doof who shows up to the table 2 hours late due to oversleeping. I'd have been blinded down to just a few chips and arrive just in time to show off to my friends and family what a total idiot I am by going all-in on my first hand, which just happens to be 72o. Two seasoned pros call my all-in.

A miracle flop hits: 772. I run around the table shouting

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

(oh, I'm sorry, apparently, it's:

JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!)

When I triple up on the hand, leaving me enough chips for exactly two more orbits, I gleefully fall backwards onto the table and writhe like an idiot.

The armed guards with shotguns, normally on hand to bring out the fake wads of cash at the end, come and forcefully remove me from the table while the TD tries to figure out who owns how many chips, 'cause I've spilled them all over the table.

As I'm being hauled off, Mike Sexton pops up from a neighboring table and tries to revive me by pouring some of that clydesdale piss beer over my face.

My friends and family exit the rail with bags over their heads so the cameras won't pick them up on the perp walk, and I'm officially disowned.

Strangely, throughout the entire affair, I never lose my grasp on the difference between "your" and "you're."

[plaid]

Funny Stuff, Funny Stuff.

Your right, good post.

[sirtimo]

Dude, go take a hot shower.. rub one out... and have a nap


(good luck!)

[plaid]

Done and Done...thanks for the advice.