NME
Starter
It seems we have an up and coming local poker star. Was anyone here aware of his career before this article?
http://www.sacbee.com/content/lifestyle/story/11210919p-12126708c.html
Holdin' his own
JC Tran is a rising star in the galaxy of poker
By Bob Sylva -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PDT Monday, October 25, 2004
Let's play a round of "what's my line."
Justin Cuong Tran, who wears a Yankees cap for luck and goes by the name "JC," has the instincts of a gunslinger, the intuition of a psychic.
At 27, the son of Vietnamese refugees, who has a business degree from California State University, Sacramento, and a master's in the odds, he is bright, fearless and, so far, in the money.
So what does JC Tran do for a living?
No, he's not a campaign consultant.
It's poker, which in case you've been holed up in a cave, is the hot hand of the moment. Especially no-limit Texas Hold 'Em. Every cable channel has its own ongoing reality series. The Internet is flush with poker sites, with a reported $6 billion a year wagered on the Web.
Card rooms are packed. Casinos are hosting million-dollar tournaments every week. Guys coming out of college don a pair of shades, a cagey attitude and think they're the next Amarillo Slim. Otherwise bedroom-playing computer geeks like Chris Moneymaker, who earned $2.5 million in the 2003 World Series of Poker with a $40 buy-in, are schoolboy role models.
Everybody's all in, all the time.
Tran isn't a recognizable player in this morality tale yet. But give him time. He has patience, a bankroll, a winning backstory.
"He's the rising star," says Dick Sacino, a Sacramento attorney who met, has played - and lost - against Tran at the Capitol Casino, a popular 24-hour card room on North 16th Street. "He has the distinct ability to figure out what the opposition is holding."
Says Jerry Ognibene, who at 61 is a veteran of the game and a regular at Capitol Casino: "He is the best Texas Hold 'Em player I have ever seen. He's got some maturing to do. But he has all the talent in the world."
Tran doesn't play at the Capitol Casino anymore. The pots are too small, the play too stingy. Now he's on the tournament circuit, traveling every week to either Las Vegas or Los Angeles. In two years of nonstop play, Tran has raked in $500,000 in earnings.
Not bad for a local boy.
It's not quite a pop star life. He and his poker pals typically crash in a hotel room to save on expenses. Fine dining is Quiznos. Caressing chips is silky, but he misses his girlfriend. His poor parents wish that he held a 9-to-5 job. But he has gone up against such poker immortals as Doyle Brunson. He has been in big cash games with celebrities such as Ben Affleck, who Tran contends is not a very good player. But Spidey is. "In my opinion, Tobey Maguire is one of the best celebrity players," says Tran, who also has played Morris Chestnut and Lou Diamond Phillips at the star-studded Commerce Casino in Los Angeles.
Right now, according to Card Player magazine, the poker bible that compiles "player of the year" standings, Tran is ranked 21st in the country. This puts him ahead, at least in points, not necessarily winnings, of such top players as Annie Duke (No. 65), Moneymaker (No. 104) and Phil Ivey (No. 118).
Last August, in his first World Series of Poker at Binion's, Tran played in seven events, made two final tables and pocketed winnings of $15,000, $19,000 and $46,000. At one final table, Tran made a brief cameo on ESPN. For that appearance, local yokel that he is, he took off his Yankees cap and donned a Kings cap. Big mistake. He was quickly knocked out.
His goal is to win a $1 million event. Don't bet against him. He's lucky.
"For my second year of tournament play, I am making more money than I ever dreamed of making," Tran says. "It has happened so fast."
On a recent summer morning, Tran is trying his best to screw on a game face. For a man who typically goes to bed at 7 a.m., the rarely seen 11 a.m. light arrives like a bad dream. He wears a sheepish smile.
Tran lives in Elk Grove, in a modest ranch-style home that he shares with his parents and an older brother who deals cards at Cache Creek Casino. Last year, Tran, in gratitude to his family, retired the mortgage with $50,000 of his winnings.
Tran, out from behind a baize table and in harsh daylight, seems quite ordinary. He is wearing baggy shorts, Nike shoes, a Ralph Lauren striped polo. He has a faint mustache and, perforce his job, a pasty face. He is serious and subdued. There is nothing flashy about him. No gold, no studs, no attitude.
He was born Cuong Tran in Nha Trang, in central Vietnam, the youngest of eight children. In 1983, the family settled in Sacramento. They lived in the River Oaks housing project; his parents tilled a garden. Tran attended Jedediah Smith Elementary School, Cal Middle School and played football at McClatchy High.
Unlike most of his pals, Tran went to college. He worked for the city as a recreation aide, coaching flag football and basketball. He thought of a career in finance, maybe something in information technology. His parents held out great hopes for their youngest son.
On his 21st birthday, however, as fate would have it, he and his brother walked into the Sundown Casino on Del Paso Boulevard. He bought in a game for $40. And cashed out with $120. "I was super happy," he says. "I was fortunate to win right off the bat."
Soon, he came back to play again. And again. By the third month, he got into a game with $80 and cashed out with $1,800. Casino patrons took to calling him "The Kid!" And pretty soon, The Kid was playing poker during lunch breaks, after school, and would often play all night before trudging off to class.
Two years ago, bankrolled by friends, Tran went to Los Angeles and entered his first tournament. He ended up winning $74,000. For a time, he was often backed by "investors" who took a piece of his action.
Today, Tran is a small, legitimate businessman. He keeps records. He has an accountant. He pays taxes. He is looking into a health care plan. It's all about money management. About picking the right games, about making the right bet. About keeping his head.
"I have the discipline to sit and wait to play the better hands," Tran says. "Ultimately, I'm going to get a hand, and I'm going to be rewarded."
But not always. On another morning, Tran is back from a disastrous road trip. He spent a week in Vegas at "The Mirage Showdown." The outing put him back $13,000.
"I didn't cash out," he says. "I got close at two events. I just got into some unlucky situations."
After that run of bad luck, he flew to Los Angeles to play in the "Legends of Poker" at the Bicycle Casino in Bell Gardens. Tran played in six events, placing in three, earning payoffs of $1,200, $1,800 and $2,200.
Tournaments, which can attract upward of 500 entrants, are often a a quagmire of amateurs. "That's the thing about tournaments," Tran says. "There is always going to be that one guy who doesn't play the way he's supposed to play. And he ends up beating you."
So this trip, he returns a poorer but wiser man. But not discouraged. "You have to have confidence," he assures. "You have to believe that you can sit down and beat these players. I would never sit down at a table if I didn't think I could win."
It's early fall now. Tran is back from Los Angeles, where he has spent an entire month. He is upbeat, positively beaming.
He got into a cash game at the Commerce. It started around 7 p.m. By the time it finished at 7 a.m., Tran had won $16,000. He went to his hotel, caught a quick wink and then got into a $300 buy-in tournament. At the end, though he wasn't the chip leader, the four surviving players opted to split the $40,000 prize money. Tran came home $26,000 fat.
Last week, at Bellagio's Festa al Lago III, a million-dollar poker tournament, Tran placed 13th and pocketed $30,000.
If all this sounds like an exciting life, it really isn't. Tran says he hates being away from home, that it's no fun living in a hotel room. That he wants his parents to be proud of him. That he wishes he could convince them that what he's doing is almost like holding down a regular job.
But playing poker isn't a regular job. He doesn't own a house. He drives a blue Honda with 100,000 miles on it. He would like to get married someday. He is frugal, prudent, even cautious. All his energies are spent in building, and conserving, his bankroll.
Odd, in a game that rewards risks, if not luck, Tran wants to take as few chances as possible.
Maybe this is Tran's strength.
"When I first started playing," he says, "it was just for fun. I was satisfied with making a couple of hundred bucks a week. Before, I never thought I would get to this level. Now at these tournaments, they know me by name. That's a good feeling. It's an honor to know some of these players. But making money is more important to me than recognition."
He smiles. Takes a peek at his hand, in a matter of speaking. Continues his verbal play. "So I'm on the verge of becoming a professional player," he says. "This could be a career for me. I'm just testing the waters. I don't want to get ahead of myself."
Sounds like he's got nothing in the hole.
Maybe he's bluffing.
Want to bet?
http://www.sacbee.com/content/lifestyle/story/11210919p-12126708c.html
Holdin' his own
JC Tran is a rising star in the galaxy of poker
By Bob Sylva -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PDT Monday, October 25, 2004
Let's play a round of "what's my line."
Justin Cuong Tran, who wears a Yankees cap for luck and goes by the name "JC," has the instincts of a gunslinger, the intuition of a psychic.
At 27, the son of Vietnamese refugees, who has a business degree from California State University, Sacramento, and a master's in the odds, he is bright, fearless and, so far, in the money.
So what does JC Tran do for a living?
No, he's not a campaign consultant.
It's poker, which in case you've been holed up in a cave, is the hot hand of the moment. Especially no-limit Texas Hold 'Em. Every cable channel has its own ongoing reality series. The Internet is flush with poker sites, with a reported $6 billion a year wagered on the Web.
Card rooms are packed. Casinos are hosting million-dollar tournaments every week. Guys coming out of college don a pair of shades, a cagey attitude and think they're the next Amarillo Slim. Otherwise bedroom-playing computer geeks like Chris Moneymaker, who earned $2.5 million in the 2003 World Series of Poker with a $40 buy-in, are schoolboy role models.
Everybody's all in, all the time.
Tran isn't a recognizable player in this morality tale yet. But give him time. He has patience, a bankroll, a winning backstory.
"He's the rising star," says Dick Sacino, a Sacramento attorney who met, has played - and lost - against Tran at the Capitol Casino, a popular 24-hour card room on North 16th Street. "He has the distinct ability to figure out what the opposition is holding."
Says Jerry Ognibene, who at 61 is a veteran of the game and a regular at Capitol Casino: "He is the best Texas Hold 'Em player I have ever seen. He's got some maturing to do. But he has all the talent in the world."
Tran doesn't play at the Capitol Casino anymore. The pots are too small, the play too stingy. Now he's on the tournament circuit, traveling every week to either Las Vegas or Los Angeles. In two years of nonstop play, Tran has raked in $500,000 in earnings.
Not bad for a local boy.
It's not quite a pop star life. He and his poker pals typically crash in a hotel room to save on expenses. Fine dining is Quiznos. Caressing chips is silky, but he misses his girlfriend. His poor parents wish that he held a 9-to-5 job. But he has gone up against such poker immortals as Doyle Brunson. He has been in big cash games with celebrities such as Ben Affleck, who Tran contends is not a very good player. But Spidey is. "In my opinion, Tobey Maguire is one of the best celebrity players," says Tran, who also has played Morris Chestnut and Lou Diamond Phillips at the star-studded Commerce Casino in Los Angeles.
Right now, according to Card Player magazine, the poker bible that compiles "player of the year" standings, Tran is ranked 21st in the country. This puts him ahead, at least in points, not necessarily winnings, of such top players as Annie Duke (No. 65), Moneymaker (No. 104) and Phil Ivey (No. 118).
Last August, in his first World Series of Poker at Binion's, Tran played in seven events, made two final tables and pocketed winnings of $15,000, $19,000 and $46,000. At one final table, Tran made a brief cameo on ESPN. For that appearance, local yokel that he is, he took off his Yankees cap and donned a Kings cap. Big mistake. He was quickly knocked out.
His goal is to win a $1 million event. Don't bet against him. He's lucky.
"For my second year of tournament play, I am making more money than I ever dreamed of making," Tran says. "It has happened so fast."
On a recent summer morning, Tran is trying his best to screw on a game face. For a man who typically goes to bed at 7 a.m., the rarely seen 11 a.m. light arrives like a bad dream. He wears a sheepish smile.
Tran lives in Elk Grove, in a modest ranch-style home that he shares with his parents and an older brother who deals cards at Cache Creek Casino. Last year, Tran, in gratitude to his family, retired the mortgage with $50,000 of his winnings.
Tran, out from behind a baize table and in harsh daylight, seems quite ordinary. He is wearing baggy shorts, Nike shoes, a Ralph Lauren striped polo. He has a faint mustache and, perforce his job, a pasty face. He is serious and subdued. There is nothing flashy about him. No gold, no studs, no attitude.
He was born Cuong Tran in Nha Trang, in central Vietnam, the youngest of eight children. In 1983, the family settled in Sacramento. They lived in the River Oaks housing project; his parents tilled a garden. Tran attended Jedediah Smith Elementary School, Cal Middle School and played football at McClatchy High.
Unlike most of his pals, Tran went to college. He worked for the city as a recreation aide, coaching flag football and basketball. He thought of a career in finance, maybe something in information technology. His parents held out great hopes for their youngest son.
On his 21st birthday, however, as fate would have it, he and his brother walked into the Sundown Casino on Del Paso Boulevard. He bought in a game for $40. And cashed out with $120. "I was super happy," he says. "I was fortunate to win right off the bat."
Soon, he came back to play again. And again. By the third month, he got into a game with $80 and cashed out with $1,800. Casino patrons took to calling him "The Kid!" And pretty soon, The Kid was playing poker during lunch breaks, after school, and would often play all night before trudging off to class.
Two years ago, bankrolled by friends, Tran went to Los Angeles and entered his first tournament. He ended up winning $74,000. For a time, he was often backed by "investors" who took a piece of his action.
Today, Tran is a small, legitimate businessman. He keeps records. He has an accountant. He pays taxes. He is looking into a health care plan. It's all about money management. About picking the right games, about making the right bet. About keeping his head.
"I have the discipline to sit and wait to play the better hands," Tran says. "Ultimately, I'm going to get a hand, and I'm going to be rewarded."
But not always. On another morning, Tran is back from a disastrous road trip. He spent a week in Vegas at "The Mirage Showdown." The outing put him back $13,000.
"I didn't cash out," he says. "I got close at two events. I just got into some unlucky situations."
After that run of bad luck, he flew to Los Angeles to play in the "Legends of Poker" at the Bicycle Casino in Bell Gardens. Tran played in six events, placing in three, earning payoffs of $1,200, $1,800 and $2,200.
Tournaments, which can attract upward of 500 entrants, are often a a quagmire of amateurs. "That's the thing about tournaments," Tran says. "There is always going to be that one guy who doesn't play the way he's supposed to play. And he ends up beating you."
So this trip, he returns a poorer but wiser man. But not discouraged. "You have to have confidence," he assures. "You have to believe that you can sit down and beat these players. I would never sit down at a table if I didn't think I could win."
It's early fall now. Tran is back from Los Angeles, where he has spent an entire month. He is upbeat, positively beaming.
He got into a cash game at the Commerce. It started around 7 p.m. By the time it finished at 7 a.m., Tran had won $16,000. He went to his hotel, caught a quick wink and then got into a $300 buy-in tournament. At the end, though he wasn't the chip leader, the four surviving players opted to split the $40,000 prize money. Tran came home $26,000 fat.
Last week, at Bellagio's Festa al Lago III, a million-dollar poker tournament, Tran placed 13th and pocketed $30,000.
If all this sounds like an exciting life, it really isn't. Tran says he hates being away from home, that it's no fun living in a hotel room. That he wants his parents to be proud of him. That he wishes he could convince them that what he's doing is almost like holding down a regular job.
But playing poker isn't a regular job. He doesn't own a house. He drives a blue Honda with 100,000 miles on it. He would like to get married someday. He is frugal, prudent, even cautious. All his energies are spent in building, and conserving, his bankroll.
Odd, in a game that rewards risks, if not luck, Tran wants to take as few chances as possible.
Maybe this is Tran's strength.
"When I first started playing," he says, "it was just for fun. I was satisfied with making a couple of hundred bucks a week. Before, I never thought I would get to this level. Now at these tournaments, they know me by name. That's a good feeling. It's an honor to know some of these players. But making money is more important to me than recognition."
He smiles. Takes a peek at his hand, in a matter of speaking. Continues his verbal play. "So I'm on the verge of becoming a professional player," he says. "This could be a career for me. I'm just testing the waters. I don't want to get ahead of myself."
Sounds like he's got nothing in the hole.
Maybe he's bluffing.
Want to bet?
