Anatoliy Zlotnikov Interview: WSOP Online Main, Youth, Parties & More

— Hi, Anatoliy! Congratulations on your incredible win in the WSOP Main Event. How did you feel after losing heads-up? Were you more or less happy?

I definitely wasn't upset. I only react badly when I've been hurt and busted in eighth or ninth place, or when I've played a losing game and gotten hit in the head. I already had this experience, when I lost a WSOP bracelet after a heads-up loss in my main game—PLO—to an opponent who was significantly weaker than me. That's when I was completely down in the dumps, didn't want to talk to anyone, and constantly replayed the hands in my head. That experience taught me how to cope with big losses.

I understand perfectly well that I've been incredibly overwhelmed just by making it to this final. This is my second time in the top three of the Main Event this year – in April they gave out $840k, this time it's three times that. And I haven't even had time to properly spend my April winnings yet.

Overall, I've learned not to dwell on the fact that I missed out on a bracelet again. I was pretty tilted early in my career, but I quickly realized that was a dead end. I often felt unfair, like I'd missed out on my 80/20 score again. But I never hit the mouse; the most I could do was slam the table. Now I'm much more level-headed.

— Are you happy with your performance in the final? Would you like to have played differently somewhere?

Overall, yes, but I didn't get my chips in with KJ heads-up. On the other hand, I would have called, flopped trips, and also sent the chips to Ben.

I also think I missed a couple of 4-bet shoves, at least one of which definitely worked.

I discussed the final hand with my coach – he said I should have pushed all-in against Rabas with . We have almost identical stacks, and ICM-wise, I'm worth $2.4 million, and if I bust, I'll get a million. So, go ahead and pull something like that when you can take your beautiful combo to the Chinese province of Kunming. My coach eventually agreed with me.

It's hard to discuss optimal decisions because the ICM pressure up until fourth place was unreal; your hands were literally tied. It's simply physically difficult to move the bet slider.

Overall, I handled it well: I stomped on Daniel Smiljkovic with suited; I picked up a few other things; I also put pressure on the Austrian, who then went into 3-max. I can't say I was holding back anywhere. I only made two mistakes in the entire final table, and I have my own opinion on one of them. I consider myself to have played a 4 out of 5 in terms of quality.

— It seemed to me that despite the huge prize money, the final turned out to be quite fun, and not like it usually happens.

I don't quite agree with you there. In fact, in such big Main Events, people often just go crazy. Let's go back to my April final table—the guy there went into the pot with absolutely no equity—the first stack got into a fight with the second stack, and ended up busting eighth. Where else would you see that? Basically, people sometimes sit down with the mindset of, 'Let's have a go.' This time, everything was much calmer.

— Did you watch the broadcast during the game?

No, I played full-focus, I didn't even read the chat. I'll explain why I decided to stream in the first place – I want to show by my own example that such important final tables can and should be played with your head, and not handed over to coaches. I categorically condemn ghosting and believe the poker gods will punish anyone involved. I have a bunch of brothers who understand ICM to a fault, but for poker to remain poker, you have to play it yourself!

— Didn't you watch the broadcast to avoid distractions? Are your opponents' cards useful information, or is it just not worth it?

The information is useful, but many people will probably play a certain way, knowing that everyone will see it in 30 minutes. I already knew perfectly well that Ben would cut it out behind the ranges, and that Smilkovich would go crazy. There's no great practical value in it; after all, I wasn't playing against strangers. Plus, you'll have to watch the broadcast, get nervous, and try to mentally calculate it all—it's much more useful to focus on your own game.

— Tell me how you celebrated.

Friends organized a pub stomp (Editor's note: this is when people gather in person and watch eSports) at a friend's bar, set up a projector, tables, and chairs. They ordered shashlik and bought a ton of alcohol. Almost 100 people showed up, 40 of whom I didn't even know. I caught myself thinking that people had come, screaming and cheering for me, but at the same time, they were worried, to put it bluntly, about whether I'd win a lot of American money or not. I was completely blown away, but it was incredibly enjoyable. When I got there, I was over the moon. Afterward, I literally felt like I was walking on air for two days. I was literally glowing. It was a really cool feeling.

I often dream about winning – colorful and detailed, like I'm playing for a bracelet worth millions. I even had to pinch myself after a heads-up to make sure it was all real. I was standing in this pub, everyone was drinking to me and congratulating me, and it was like I had a dopamine overdose. I don't know how to explain the feeling. Something between a mild panic attack and a very strong high. It was incredible.

— Cool, I think poker lacks something like this.

Yes, but on the other hand, to be honest, poker players aren't exactly the kind of people who selflessly care about their colleagues' successes. Yes, friends cheer each other on, but many can also gloat. So, gathering like-minded people together to root for each other is really cool, but incredibly difficult.

— How do you prepare for important finals?

I usually count the first levels in HRC, figure out how we should 3-bet and 4-bet, and how to defend the blinds. I often call Kot and Nikita Kalinin to discuss hands. For this final table specifically, I prepared purely based on my opponents, watching a lot of replays.

I also practice meditation and breathing exercises, and, as funny as it may seem, I watch an old video of the Performer about tuning into the game.

— How do you relax and recharge?

During the episodes, I drink with my brothers. Going to an episode feels like a vacation, but usually ends up working full-time. Although after the episodes, I still feel rested. At home, I like the sauna, meditation, and hanging out with friends. And I also like to just chill on the couch and play Dota.

— Who among the Russian-speaking players do you consider to be the strongest MTT player?

The strongest is "SerVlaMin". If I were to choose based on his logical thinking and analysis of complex spots, then Nikita Kalinin always gets to the heart of the matter and can analyze a hand to the crater. A chess master!

— Your Telegram channel is called Breakout from Poverty. Why?

I once had a guy sitting in an Armenian gambling den with a very short stack, and when asked to buy in, he replied, 'No, I've got just enough left to escape poverty.' I absolutely loved that phrase, so I decided to use it.

I once changed my name after Triton's introduction, but my subscribers, about 600 of whom were there at the time, started beating me up and gave me an ultimatum: change it back to the way it was or get unsubscribed. I had to comply.

— Tell us about your life before poker, what did you do and how did you start playing?

I had a lot of odd jobs. I worked as a loader, but a privileged one. When the stores closed for the night, we'd build installations there. I also worked as a translator and steward at Luzhniki – I greeted and guided guests, mostly Arabs, around the stadium. I usually worked track and field and rugby matches.

These weren't crowded competitions, but they were always attended by all sorts of bigwigs from all over the world. I had to greet them and escort them to their seats, a fetch-and-get-out-of-the-way kind of job. Thanks to my knowledge of the language, I was able to earn quite a good living.

I saved up money and went on away trips to support CSKA. I went to matches in Rome, the Czech Republic, Germany—in short, I was a very active fan.

I spent almost ten years practicing Muay Thai and freestyle wrestling, training and fighting constantly. I'm a competitive athlete now, but I'd probably kill the average poker player with a 2.

— Does a sports background help in poker?

Probably not. I'm probably just dumber than the field from the constant blows to the head. I've had a lot of injuries, eight recorded concussions. That experience was probably detrimental. I quit because there's no money to be made there – they gave me 15,000 rubles (around $189) for a fight, another 15,000 for a win, and then you spend about 15,000 on treatment.

So, I worked as a courier, a translator, and even worked in an office. All this time, I was playing poker. I'd been playing the game since I was 14. I walked into the building, and there on the steps sat my friend and the neighborhood's biggest drunk, nicknamed Sega, now deceased. They were playing cards, using 5 and 10-ruble coins instead of chips. I saw my friend giving this guy the cold shoulder, so I decided to join in. They explained the rules to me. Basically, we were shoveling him into oblivion; my friend was making up combinations out of thin air, Yellowboy style ( Ed. – hello to the oldies ). Essentially, it was a rip-off of the local drunk, but the game isn't exactly a cakewalk, as they say. That was the only time I ever shoveled into cards.

So I learned the combinations, and already at university, I met some guys who were playing poker at someone's house. I showed up with an entry fee of 500 rubles (around $6). The owner had Stars downloaded and a decent Dota rating, so I was filled with respect and thought they'd beat me. But then, bam, the opposite happened – I walked away with 8,000 rubles (around $100). I don't even understand how it happened; I was playing intuitively, not bluffing at all, just playing solitaire. Everyone looked down on me at first, thinking I was just overexcited, but I started going there like I was earning a living.

Naturally, I liked it, so I installed poker rooms and deposited about 100,000 rubles (around $1250). Within a couple of months, I'd lost it all on ABI, $5, even though I was playing basically everything. I was playing completely nowhere, I couldn't hit a single button.

I started watching videos and trying to learn something, and I learned about Omaha. I quickly climbed up to PLO200 with good win rates. I switched to heads-up PLO, quickly established myself there, and for a while even ran a lobby with other regs. But then the Argentine-Uruguayan cartel showed up and I got slapped. That was the end of my heads-up career.

I switched to apps, won a lot in private games in Moscow, played limits up to $25/$50, even though I wasn't quite within my bankroll. One time, they even didn't want to let me out of the casino, even though I'd been playing for eight hours. People started saying things like, "Why is he leaving when he's winning?" I said, "Guys, I'm going to work and I'll be right back." So I picked up some sweethearts there, and they were asleep right there in the casino. It was a good game, but it was very nerve-wracking, and it was expensive—the entry could be 10-20% of the bankroll.

I once won a $33 kilo field tournament, and that became my starting BR for online play. I lost my bankroll three or four times. I worked, saved up, came back, and fought like a lion again.

— At what point did you realize that poker was more than just a hobby?

I think in 2019. In 2017, I went to my first live series and lost, went to the second and brought home an EPT trophy. On my third trip, I knocked out 300 people, even though I had half a blind left at level four. At the time, I was playing almost without bluffs, but somehow I was making money. Now it seems like I never hit a single button, but I still thought I was the center of the universe.

In 2019, I started to tinker with the theory and work on my game. To be perfectly honest, I only figured out what was going on by the end of 2023. I was doing better in Omaha, but I played Hold'em like a mediocre regular, although maybe I'm just being overly critical of myself. The game and the meta change, and maybe I was good enough back then, despite my extremely limited knowledge.

It was probably around 2023 that I realized that poker could actually make good money.

– Have you ever had periods when you wanted to quit poker?

Yes, I took a break for about a year and a half, doing my own thing and running my own business. At some point, apathy set in. I came to Sochi for another series, looked at all these familiar faces, and I just felt sick. I caught myself thinking I was doing some kind of bullshit. I finished a couple of tournaments and didn't pick up a card for a year and a half.

The return went well – he won three cups in the very first series.

— Why did you decide to come back?

I missed the game. My skin itched. Gambling addicts always come back. Slots know how to wait, as they say. So does poker.

— Are you prone to gambling addiction?

Yeah, 100%. I'm a nerd to the core, but I manage to keep it under control. I understand the depths this can lead to. I can afford to play craps, play roulette very occasionally, or win a couple hundred on slots in a streak. But that's the maximum.

I swam beyond the buoys a few times. Once in Sochi, I lost a couple of million rubles on the roulette wheel (one million rubles is around 12650 US dollars), and it was downright painful. It was a terrible feeling. Later, I realized I'd paid for the experience that would help me keep my cool in the future.

Spartak the Cat introduced me to craps during a series in the Bahamas. I always thought it was a purely American game, with all the showmanship, people shouting, and rolling dice. We'd go to the casino and gradually make money. Once you've made money, you'll like any game. We won a little, and I decided to learn the rules. The series ended, everyone had gone home, I'd won $80,000 and had already turned everything over, with only a thousand left in chips. I decided to try craps. There was an old man at the table, and I'd been taught that you have to play like an old man. All in all, I ended up with a net profit of over $40,000 in a couple of hours.

The point of the game is to avoid rolling a seven on the dice, which is the most common number (3+4, 2+5, etc.). That means you have a 14% chance of losing everything, and the rest of the time, you either make money or break even. Grandpa couldn't roll a seven for an entire hour! I had all four trays filled with chips, and I was sitting there like a tycoon. As soon as Grandpa started rolling sevens, I left.

A year later, I meet Kot in the Bahamas, and I tell him pompously, "You're not playing at -2% now, you're playing at -6%." The student has surpassed the teacher!

— You play for a living, stream a lot, and travel frequently. Some people say you have to choose one or the other, otherwise you'll never succeed. How do you balance all of this?

I don't think you need to choose just one. The main thing is to be honest with yourself and strive to improve in all areas. It's also important to understand what works for you and what doesn't. I know a lot of people who switched from online to live and vice versa, and they're significantly worse in their new environment. I don't even know how I balance it; I think I'm just lucky. But many people have similar issues. I'm probably more of an live player because I know a lot of tricks that other players don't.

— How did you get the nickname "Legend?"

It was invented by a regular live poker player from the Chechen Republic, Ruslan Nesiev. One time in Kaliningrad, I won three trophies in one series and was going to take a photo. He walked by and said pointedly, 'What a legend!'

I performed well again at the next series. Every time he saw me, I was sitting there with a huge stack. And every time, he'd say Anatoliy was a Legend. Gradually, people started calling me that in Kaliningrad, then it got around to Sochi, so I started streaming with the nickname already in place. Thanks to Ruslan Nesiev, it stuck.

— There's also an opinion that actively streaming and playing high-stakes matches are incompatible. What do you think about that?

I think it's more of an excuse. A lot of people are afraid that if they stream, it will be obvious they're playing with GTO Wizard... Oh, did I say that out loud?

Seriously, it's just hard for people to do everything at once—read the chat, keep up with the conversation, and keep track of hands. It's hard for me too. Often, I just have fun streams with music, but sometimes you're rushed and can't keep up or you're on tilt, and then you have to think about the chat or the camera. All of this, of course, can affect your gameplay.

— I saw that you have a trophy cabinet, how did you get it?

Friends gave it to me. They were just tired of looking at the trophies piled up under the TV. One day, they brought this cabinet and two bottles of moonshine. We started putting it together, but it turned out we'd put it together incorrectly. I called a friend from the "Handyman" company, and we took it apart and put it back together. It was an insanely cool gift. Now there are 23 trophies in there, and they're all very special to me—the Triton, the WSOP-C ring, two EPT spades.

I treat trophies like a legacy. If there's a chance to divide and beg for a piece of glass, I'll always take it. Out of 23 trophies, I literally begged for four.

— And how do they beg for trophies?

One time, I won the cup when five people were sharing it. It was already seven in the morning, we'd been playing for a long time and were incredibly tired. I was a huge chip leader, so I was only willing to share it if I kept the trophy. That's basically how you beg for it.

— How do you see your life in 10-20 years? Will you still be playing, or are you planning to retire from poker and do something else?

I don't have any retirement plans yet, but it's quite possible it's waiting for me somewhere. I want to win a hundred trophies no matter what. True, I'll have to buy another cabinet, maybe even two. In any case, as long as I love the game, as long as I enjoy everything, and there's room for improvement, I have to work hard.

— What advice would you give to guys who want to make a breakthrough from poverty?

The main thing is to play responsibly and not for your last dime. This is crucial. Work on your game, as the competition in poker is very high and will only get worse. Don't feed your ego; don't be a conceited person. An ego in poker is necessary for growth, but it's important not to overfeed it, lest you turn into a self-important jerk.

A tip from Anatoliy Legenda: if you overinflate your ego and overinflate your position over the field, you'll be backfiring. Take this as you will, but these are my observations. The game doesn't forgive such things. But that's purely my opinion; I'm not egocentric or overconfident, which is probably why I'm making it.

Read GipsyTeam, play on GGPoker and PokerOK , and good luck with your escape from poverty!