– Sergey, hi! I was a little surprised to see you made it to the WSOP this year. How long has it been since you've been to Vegas?
– I came to the World Series for many years in a row, from 2010 to 2018 I missed it only once, and then for a good reason – I went with friends to the World Cup in Brazil to support Russia.
We used to have a group (Anton, Maxim, Inner and Misha). We lived, played, and relaxed together after tournaments, but gradually the guys started losing interest in traveling to the WSOP. In 2018, I went to the WSOP alone for the first time. I stayed in a hotel and played mostly cash games rather than tournaments; it was an unusual experience. After that, I had to give up Vegas – to become a naturalized resident of England, I needed to spend a certain number of days a year in London, and since we have a lot of family trips, it wasn't possible to squeeze in Vegas. Then COVID happened, so those trips were canceled altogether, and after the restrictions were lifted, I quit the WSOP too.
I played a lot online, and 2021-22 and the beginning of 2023 were very successful for me. Even from a financial standpoint, it wasn't worth the distraction of tournaments and interrupting my playing. Plus, I was playing short-deck, so I was a bit out of touch with the realities of hold'em.
However, my love for Vegas remained. Since the beginning of last year, I've slowly started returning to live poker, although calling it a return to tournament poker would be a stretch. I don't play online at all now – I can't focus enough at the low stakes for me, and there are no high-stakes games right now, plus playing at night doesn't fit with my lifestyle. Basically, I haven't figured out how to comfortably integrate online poker into my life.
I attended a few EPT series without much expectation, and even set a ceiling for myself: I wouldn't play tournaments worth more than $10,000. I figured selling shares for anything higher would be too brazen, as I had no preparation or experience, and risking large sums of money on my own was too much.
It turned out that my first trip to the EPT in Paris was incredibly successful – I took third place in the $10k 500-entry tournament. I could have finished even higher, actually. The final table was incredibly grueling; no one wanted to bust, and all the short-handed players were getting in from the bottom and doubling up. At one point, I made a pretty serious technical error and didn't eliminate Oliver Weiss, who ended up winning the tournament. I should have covered his all-in, but fatigue, a reluctance to bust, and a lack of practice took their toll. Nevertheless, this trip gave me confidence that I still have what it takes.
And I also thought that since I had won something, I could afford to lose something too.
So, at the next series in Monte Carlo, I jumped into the $25k tournament. I made the final table again, but finished fifth. I also felt like I had a chance to do better; at one point, I was the chip leader. On the other hand, after the game, you always forget how much luck it takes to even make it to the second day.
Last year, I couldn't make it to Vegas; I had other plans. But I did go to the EPT in Prague and jumped into the $50k tournament there.
– Bankroll management!
– Yeah. Looking back, it seems like it was unnecessary. The lineup was all regs, there weren't many people there, and the WSOP Bahamas was also running at the same time as the EPT. So, they didn't bring any amateurs to Prague.
At first, we played at one table, then two. Half the players were strong Russian-speaking regulars, but even with that lineup, I managed to hold on until third place. And the word "hold on" is apt here; at no point in the tournament did I have more than four or five starting stacks. Nikita Kuznetsov and I were at the final table in Paris, and we met again in Prague. He was a huge chip leader, and at one point his stack was 10 times bigger than mine. But in the end, Nikita busted in fourth, and I finished third. I truly managed to outlast everyone in a fantastic way.
Overall, I enjoyed my trips to the EPT, and I managed to bring home some cash each time. My plan was to continue playing the series this year, but Stars cancelled Paris due to legal issues, and I had a bit of a misfire in Monte Carlo this time around – I didn't make any progress, and in the Main Event, I busted seven players short of the money after playing rather arrogantly.
We decided to go to the WSOP. I didn't want to stay long; I like the EPT because you can play the Main Event and the High Roller, get your fill of poker in a week, feel a sense of belonging to the poker world, and then head home. But in Vegas, a week is very short.
Luckily, this year they conveniently scheduled four high-stakes tournaments in a row: a $25k 6-max, a $25k 8-max, and then high rollers for $50k and $100k. I traveled with the plan to play all of them. I arrived a little early to recover from the flight, but jet lag plagued me the entire time I was in Vegas. Before my main tournaments, I practiced in the lower-stakes ones and even almost won my first table in a shootout.
I ultimately decided to skip the $100k tournament after the $50k final. It's not that I was upset about finishing fifth, I just wasn't physically ready, and the field was much worse.
– Let's talk about the $50k tournament. The final lineup was legendary. How did it shape up for you?
I had this tournament scheduled right away—my birthday is June 9th, and the tournament starts that same day, so I definitely had to win. I ended up making it to the final table, though, to be precise, it was on my second entry, which was on June 10th.
This was my last WSOP tournament, I'd already played my fill and busted out, some of it due to self-inflicted mishaps, others just bad luck. Overall, the series wasn't going very well. The highlight was three times I had aces on the button, and all three times I lost more than the pot with them. I entered each $25k tournament twice, and I finished the first one in about three hours. I felt like I wasn't having any luck at all-in.
I didn't do well in the $50k tournament on the first day either; my chips were scattered, and I was surviving with a short stack. I doubled up against Martin Kabrhel multiple times, three times on the first day alone. On the second day, I couldn't get anywhere either, my stack gradually dwindling. I busted an hour and a half before registration closed. I consulted with the guys, and they said that if I were to jump, I'd do it at the very end. By jumping in as late as possible, you maximize your chances of making it into the money, despite the fact that you'll be short-stacked in the blinds.
So, I re-entered with a bunch of other risk-takers with a stack under 15 big blinds. I quickly got it all in with 55 for 99, but I found a set. And then, in literally half an hour, I was in full swing – I took chips from Oliver Weiss, who I hadn't knocked out in Paris, and got top pair against two. Before I knew it, my stack was already above average.
On the pre-bubble, I found myself back at the table with Kabrhel. He was sitting to my left, and overall, the table was elite: Foxen, the strong Lithuanian Dominykas Mykolaitis, Bryan Rast, Chino Rheem, and Bryn Kenney. The stack dictated I play tight, so I just sat it out until the money.
With one player left before the money, I was dealt kings. Kabrhel immediately bet me big, so I decided not to make a fool of myself and quickly moved all-in to make it look less like I was at the top of my range, in case he had a hand that would make him hesitate between calling and folding. The stacks were so deep, though, that it was all decided the moment you three-bet. So, the bubble hit, Kabrhel burned his time-bank card and called. I immediately turned over my cards, and they told me to wait, it's hand-for-hand. Martin had already seen my kings, so I asked what he had, and he said aces. With any other player, you know they really do have aces, but aces are hard to snap-call. It didn't really matter anymore, the all-in was in, but it was interesting. The hand at the next table, as luck would have it, was playing out endlessly. I sat there, wondering if he really could have aces.
I figured Kabrhel wouldn't burn a card for show. He ended up turning over an ace, then a king, and I doubled up. Unfortunately, my good friend Pavel Plesuv busted on the bubble in that hand. He had a huge stack—when the five of us were down and the TV table was formed, my stack was smaller than his on the bubble. He also had kings, by the way. So, we fared very differently.
– How do you feel about Kabrhel? Have you ever had any unpleasant situations with him?
– Well, he really doesn't shut up at the table. Sometimes it gets really funny because he talks nonstop. There were some jokes about Foxen being Rast's son. It seemed silly, but it was funny: Foxen, the Lithuanian, and Rast were sitting in a row. Foxen opened from the button, and the Lithuanian called from the small blind. Kabrhel was like, 'Oh no, you're getting into a sandwich, this won't end well for you!' So Rast goes all-in with a short stack—Foxen folds, and the Lithuanian folds too.
I can't really say I have any negative feelings about him. I haven't seen any dirty talk in the time I've played with him. The endless blah-blah-blah gets a little tiresome. I think it's just his way of dealing with stress; I'm not sure he's completely in control of himself at times like that. Overall, I think some people are overly harsh on him, and there are players who say completely inappropriate things about him.
Sometimes he has some really bad hands. Downright awful. I don't know if he can be considered a regular in these lineups. I think many amateur players from Triton who have had time to practice their hand will be stronger than him. A regular who has more or less studied his game and doesn't pay attention to his chatter could simply destroy him.
But sometimes it was difficult for me and Kabrhel, too. You have to be prepared that this kind of chatter, if you're not calm and collected enough, can provoke you to, for example, abandon a bluff. When you know someone will laugh at you after the hand, you don't want to listen to it. And with the development of streaming, especially on Triton, this is becoming more and more important. A strong player is distinguished by being unafraid of looking stupid. Unfortunately, this isn't always easy for me.
– Did you somehow overcome this fear?
– I once read Galfond's translation on GipsyTeam about how every player has their own strengths. Some people like to bluff but don't like to call, and vice versa. You need to know your own strengths and, every time you think, 'He's probably strong, I'll just fold my bluffcatcher,' try to check yourself. I do this because I'm uncomfortable or I genuinely think it's a losing proposition.
I have no problem with bluffs online, but I like calling them down much less. I understand the concept that you need to be right about once in a while, depending on the bet size, intellectually, but I still haven't accepted it emotionally. When I call, I want to win right then and there; I have a hard time accepting the fact that I'll be right about once in three times.
In live play, I've realized that bluffing is actually psychologically difficult for me, especially on the river. Sometimes I overpower myself, but sometimes I just can't. I think this comes with experience and a clearer understanding of the technical aspects than I have now. Usually, you don't want to bluff when you're unsure of your moves—even if you do eventually decide to bluff, you start to feel nervous, already expecting to be called.
– Whose performance in the final did you like the most?
– I think Jason Koon is in very good shape right now. It's no secret that he's strong, but in the past, his tenacious nature meant he sometimes couldn't let go of a bluffcatcher. I noticed him before his Triton victories, when he wasn't considered a top player. I thought he was a street poker apologist; I'd seen him make some really wild plays. We've played a fair bit of short-deck together, so I know he's capable of delving deeply into technical details. He seems to be pretty good at reading life tells, too. I think he's in top shape right now—both mentally and technically.
Lichtenberger has a very pleasant demeanor at the table, but I felt he played a bit too freely, although I could be wrong about that.
Well, Tollerene can only be admired for what he's achieved in poker and the way he plays. Nowadays, you can't even use phones at final tables; they just take them away from the TV table. So, he sat there and wrote down the hands on napkins! I've never seen anything like that. He's a very passionate and loving poker player. People who understand Omaha say he plays flawlessly.
Lesha Boyko is undoubtedly a strong player. His results speak for themselves, but I think he's still a bit short on wins. I'm waiting for him to hit the jackpot.
Isildur was in his element. He plays very quickly, communicates little, and clearly has his own unique understanding of poker. It's also clear he's not one to watch Triton streams; he doesn't utilize the newfangled tricks the solver has brought to the game. His innate talent and understanding of the game help him make good decisions and push when necessary. He had a big stack at this final table; he could have played more aggressively, but he didn't seem in the mood.
– How do you feel in such tough lineups? How comfortable are you playing against top players, considering MTT isn't your strong suit?
– It comes in waves. It's often less comfortable in the early stages, but once I get deep, I feel like I've done a good job. That's basically why I play; I enjoy this race. Naturally, I want to win a big tournament sooner or later. Generally, I stay calm unless a hand happens that shakes me up. The most shaking hands are those where I don't know whether I played correctly or not, especially if I have to fold.
You can make a very expensive mistake at the final table, but you rarely play difficult hands with a lot of action, and that's psychologically more difficult for me. I've basically played short-stacked poker my whole life, so I'm pretty familiar with it, although there are some subtleties here now, too.
For example, there was a distribution on the pre-bubble:
Dominykas Mykolaitis opens for 80k with a slightly larger stack than me. I raise to 225k with KQo and get four-bet to 525k. I only have 1,600-1,700k in my stack, so like a fair player, I fold.
Then Lesha Boyko and I discussed this hand – he says folding is fine, but sometimes you can 5-bet. That is, not all-in, but click-raise half-stack and fold to a shove. A 4-bet bluff is quite liberal and common here, with suited aces, for example, plus they should shove with some frequency, but in reality, it's hard to imagine. That's how it is... And I had no idea you could 5-bet this deep and fold to a shove. When I used to play capped hands with 20bb stacks, we'd just push all-in to an open raise, but now, thanks to ICM, you can see 3-bet/fold even with 10bb stacks.
– Do you work on your MTT strategy in any way?
– I decided I wouldn't do that—if you know something but can't apply it in practice, that knowledge will work against you. If you see something somewhere but it doesn't fit into your system, that can also be a negative. I work on my game the old-fashioned way—discussing hands with other regulars; that's been my biggest help throughout my career. I understand it's hard to get a complete picture that way, and there are a lot of gaps, but I do understand some things.
I've decided to try to forgive myself for my mistakes. If I enter a big tournament, I'm definitely going to make mistakes. Everyone will, and I'll probably make them more often than the guys who play actively. But once you're in the tournament, you have to forgive yourself and hope that some things will still work out.
I might be wrong, but freedom from preconceived notions can sometimes be beneficial—you might know you should always call in a certain situation, but you see that your opponent is value betting right now. I think sometimes people who play a lot online find it difficult to deviate from their strategy for fear of being exploited. But when you play several tournaments a year, you don't have to worry about that.
– Are the series more of a pastime for you – a favorite hobby on vacation – or more about making money?
– I don’t set the obligatory goal of earning money, because this often leads to disappointment.
I stopped playing online quite abruptly; I think it's still hard for me to let go of my identity as a poker player. Objectively, of all the things I could do, poker is where I have the most expertise, so I can't quit everything right away, even though many of my friends have. I decided that my current lifestyle suits me best – go to a series, see friends, get my head around it, and, ideally, get a foothold somewhere. If that doesn't work out, no big deal; I take five or six such trips a year, and I can't afford to lose much anyway.
Maybe if I go on a long streak, my attitude will change. But I hope they continue to deal me well.
– When did you stop playing online and why?
– I haven't played since November 2023. 2023 was the most successful year of my career, and it also turned out to be my last year of active play. I wouldn't say never, the situation could change, but right now I just don't see where I could play online.
In short, the problem with online poker for me is that I'm no longer ready to put in the amount of effort and nerve to compete at the highest level; it's too exhausting and draining for me. And the amount of time I'd like to dedicate to poker is completely unclear to me. Perhaps I could play at lower limits, but that doesn't appeal to me right now.
– What and where did you play during this most successful year?
– In apps—one of them was PokerMaster, then it was renamed HHPoker. Now I don't even know if there's a game there or not. There were a lot of high-stakes games where I sold action, the limits were astronomical. Sometimes I'd only get 5% of the winnings.
I played a few hands at seven-digit stakes. Even with backing, winning or losing $100k in a session became commonplace. I won much more often, which was nice. Overall, it was a successful year.
Suddenly, my play got worse, but the winning habit remained. I fell into a trap—from mid-summer until November, I continued to play a lot, even though the lineups had noticeably deteriorated. My results, too, accordingly. Then it became clear that some of the games were unfair, with people team-playing and practically seeing each other's cards, but I don't know the details. Because of this, I burned out and almost hated poker. Meanwhile, I continued to play a lot and was constantly exhausted, with an obsessive desire to return to my peak.
I was clearly starting to lose my grip, and my mental state wasn't great either. Ultimately, I made a decision to stop and take a break, and when I was ready to return, there was nowhere left to go; the game had fallen apart. There are still no games at the stakes I could have qualified for in 2023, so there's no temptation to return.
– Would you like to come back?
– Hmm... My expectations were objectively very high, but these games really wore me out and shook my confidence in my love for poker. You also have to understand that short deck is very repetitive, with a lot of preflop all-ins with close equity. It feels like I'm playing the same old game over and over again. But I doubled my bankroll in a few months, so I can't complain. So yeah, I'd probably go back.
I also had the feeling that everyone around me had either figured out my game and figured out what I was doing, or had suddenly learned to play well. Now I chalk it up to unfair play. Otherwise, how can I explain the fact that one day I was objectively much stronger than the field, and then the next day I stopped winning altogether?
As you approach 40, you start to wonder what your exit point might be. If the games are so high-stakes that you can easily lose half your bankroll without any guarantee of a chance to win it back, that's a reason to question whether it's worth it. When you have a regular game and know that if you make a bad shot, you can recoup your losses, that's a whole different story. That's not the situation for most players right now.
In poker, it's not enough to win a lot of money; you also have to make money out of it, and that doesn't always correlate with good poker skills. Countless people have won fortunes, expected to make millions a year, and are now broke or in debt.
– You've stopped playing online, so you've got a lot of free time. What do you do with it?
– I have three children, so time just sort of fills up. It's not like I'm doing nothing; I'm just living, taking care of the house, spending time with my family, playing a lot of tennis, and learning a bit about investing. Overall, I'm living a relaxed, semi-retired life.
– Do you have any plans to replace poker with something?
– I think it's practically impossible to replace poker, and I don't want to, at least right now. That's both the upside and downside of poker—it's very intense in terms of intellectual immersion. I don't think I'll be able to find anything comparable. Business is one option, but I don't have any good ideas, and I don't want to look for something just to have. The situation is conducive to stopping in terms of active work.
– Will there be enough money for the rest of your life?
– I think so. If I live the way I do now, it'll last a very long time. Of course, everything can change, and black swans are always possible. I think I'll always be able to make some money through poker, in some form or another.
Many people increase their spending so they're constantly on edge about needing to earn more. I sometimes go to Monaco and places like that, and I think they're designed to make you feel like a loser. Everything around you seems to be telling you, "Dude, it's too early for you to relax, you need to step up your game. Your neighbor already has 10 cars, and you only have five!"
I can't even buy a house in London. I have the money, but it would be too much to pay off at once. It's easy to come up with so many expenses that you'll quickly spend any amount, but if you just live without denying yourself anything, it will last for quite a long time. I hope.
– Do you know what's going on in shortdeck these days? Five years ago, it seemed like everyone was playing it, but now you can't hear a thing.
– The boom has definitely passed. PokerStars is a no-brainer, but GG has also seen much less action since the VIP games closed. There's still some action in the American rooms, but as far as I understand, the action there is pretty tough, mostly reggae.
Basically, when I read interviews with guys from the CoinPoker cash game championship , it seemed to me that most of them were just interested in the sport, the question of winning money there in third place.
Someone even said something like, "When there's an amateur at the table, your brain gets sluggish and you start playing worse, but when there are only regs at the table, that's when we can give it our all." I admire that mindset, but it's definitely not for me right now. It's a full-fledged sport that requires complete dedication.
If you look at the young guys on Triton, I imagine they dedicate 8-10 hours a day to the game, and I was like that myself at one point. I sometimes read Petrangelo's story—he wakes up, has breakfast, and off we go—he has to watch all the broadcasts, figure out who put something there, why, and how. It's a full-fledged sport, no joke.
I don't think you should get into a place where you can't stay. You need to understand what you can and can't sacrifice. There are plenty of stories of regulars who were already on the wane, but managed to rack up a couple of million before realizing they were no good. The worst thing that can happen is to keep playing when everyone except you already thinks you're an amateur.
If you realize you're more of an amateur, that's fine. I'd hardly call myself an amateur, but sometimes I find myself in teams where I'm likely one of the weakest. But I'm aware of that, otherwise it's easy to lose too much, or even everything.
– Are you no good because you don’t want to put in that much effort, or is it more likely that you can’t?
– I spoke with Mikita Bodyakovsky, and he said that playing high-stakes tournaments online isn't the best idea in terms of money, but you still have to play them—to get the hang of it, to know your opponents and what they're capable of. So you'll find yourself in tough situations, and then, when something similar happens at the Triton finals, you'll be more likely to know what to do. Many top players play online simply to stay in shape, so they can attend high-stakes tournaments and stay on top of the latest trends and understand what the younger generation is up to.
I don't do any of that. The gaps I need to fill are far greater than those of an MTT regular. I have a lot to catch up on and a radical lifestyle change. It's a whole project. Overall, it requires a lot of effort, and what I'll get out of it isn't entirely clear. My expectations for online play are, hopefully, close to zero.
Maybe when the kids get older and I want to go to every Triton, I'll have to change my approach. Right now, I play maybe 50 tournaments a year. For example, during the entire last final, I didn't even have any difficult decisions, and it often happens that the cards play out for themselves.
I'm currently living a semi-retired, semi-amateur life, and that suits me perfectly. But within that framework, I still want to progress, doing what I can and have time for. During the series, I try to discuss difficult situations with the guys, trying to pick up some concepts and ideas.
– You’ve been living in London for a long time now. How do you like the city and do you have any plans to move?
– Yes, almost nine years. My relationship with London has been up and down—at first, I really liked everything, there was an element of novelty and a sense of adventure that we created ourselves, since there were no compelling reasons for moving from Russia. Nowadays, it's rare for someone to do so voluntarily, simply because they wanted to.
Over time, fatigue began to set in. Plus, I'm used to traveling frequently, so during COVID, I began to doubt whether it was even worth staying here. Life is objectively expensive; you can find something similar for less.
Recently I was thinking about moving to Portugal, then to Austria and even to Ljubljana, where I have a lot of friends now.
Now I've calmed down and put thoughts of moving on hold. I think it's largely due to my lack of mental activity—when I stopped playing poker, I felt like I needed another project to take its place. I think choosing a location and planning the move has become a kind of substitute for me, one in which I can immerse myself deeply and fully engage.
While planning, I realized I have three children. Even though we moved a long time ago—my eldest daughter was 5.5 at the time, my youngest 18 months—they still feel like Russians in London. And for my eldest, this is a problem; she says she doesn't feel at home at school with English students. My son has integrated much better.
Children already have two cultures to which they feel a sense of belonging in varying degrees. But bringing a child to a third country—a new language, a new culture, new people—will be extremely stressful. It's one thing when circumstances force it, but there's no need to subject children to such a burden without reason.
I don't rule out the possibility of moving someday, but it will be a purely expat experience. You won't be trying to fit into the culture, you won't be trying to pass as a local, although that doesn't quite work here either.
– Is raising three children much more difficult than raising one?
– It all depends a lot on the kids. They're quite competitive here, fighting for their parents' attention. It can be exhausting sometimes. But I don't think siblings have to be crazy about each other; it's up to the parents to have more children.
The kids are quite a bit different in age—four and seven—so everyone has been little for a while. But it can be stressful. Traveling together with five of them is like constant concerts, with everyone arguing and snapping at each other. But it's fun.
– You've been playing poker for almost twenty years. Looking back, what are your most memorable moments?
– The most intense emotions, like many others, were in my first year of playing. It was my introduction to poker, and I quickly started to gain momentum. Yesterday, losing $200 would be a disaster, and today you're up for $1,000! Everything happened so fast, you're both nervous and excited. Plus, I was incredibly interested in poker itself, and to some extent, that still holds true, but back then, I was thinking about the game all the time. I continued studying for two more years and graduated, but all I could think about was poker.
I'm incredibly grateful to poker – it's a game that can engage you intellectually from beginning to end. Limitless. At the beginning of my career, I thought I was discovering new tricks, but 18 years later, it turns out it's a bottomless field for exploration. Especially when it comes to tournaments – unique situations arise constantly, you can rely on a certain foundation, but at the same time, you're always acting in the here and now. There's no single right decision. That is, it might exist in an ideal world, but you're playing against a specific opponent, against whom a technically correct decision can be a mistake. This is what really captivates me about poker.
True, there are plenty of dark sides. I've been incredibly lucky; the game has brought me together with a huge number of wonderful people – responsive, kind, and honest. Unfortunately, not everyone can say that. In my entire career, I've only had a few debts defaulted on me, and only one of them was completely dead. So, in 18 years of poker, I've only had one debt. I think I overdid it.
