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A true story
I'm a decent guy, or so I like to think. I don't cause trouble to anyone, and I don't beat my wife. Not that I'm married, but if I were I wouldn't.
I'm a cautious nature and never handle money lightly. I do like to sit down and play some cards with the buddies once in a while, but it's just for the hell of it. For the company - and the beer.
My friends like to give me a hard time, calling me "weak fish", "rock", "mister pocket rockets" and such. And they're right, of course. Someone even claimed I was "tighter than a *******'s ass", but I have no empirical experience in that particular "niche".
Anyhow, one night we set up a private satellite to the WSOP Main Event. Eleven guys put up $1,000 each, a thou. The winner would use $10,000 as buy-in to the Main Event and the rest for living expenses in Las Vegas. The losers would have a share of him and get a piece of his winnings.
That is, if he won anything, which of course was ridiculously unlikely with 7,000+ entrants.
I was all against it. Like I said, I don't like to splash my cash around like that. I don't care much for Sin City either; you're pretty much a loser once you get off the plane at McCarran, as I see it.
But I knew there was no way out of it. I didn't even try to argue, I could tell it was no use. The guys were all over the place with excitement. I considered the money as gone and lost and decided to compensate as well as I could by drinking as much beer as possible.
I know you're not supposed to drink while playing poker, at least not tournament poker, but this night I didn't pay any attention to all that crap.
I drank quite a lot of really good beer that night. Apparently it changed my personality a bit. I got really talkative, and I started raising and re-raising every other hand.
That's what my friends tell me. I don't remember. There's a void after I entered the room and said "f**k you all".
Anyway, my new aggressive style won me the satellite and two weeks later I got off the plane at McCarran. Several of my buddies - and shareholders - stood at the railing when I sat down to play my first and last WSOP.
At the table I had two mega famous big mouths called Phil Hellmuth and Mike Matusow. That's great for you, said my buddies. Myself I was shaky all over and when the blinds came around to me, I tried to peel the poker chips off my sweaty palms while upholding some kind of dignity.
I was stark sober and strongly determined not to give away a single chip to those full-time hustlers who could look right through me. Hours passed by, and quite honestly nothing happened. After three full days of play I was at 10,340 chips. 30 hours of poker had earned me 340 tournament chips and one of those aches in the small of the back.
When Day 3 ended, I was the last name at the list of survivors. I had fewer chips than anyone else and there was no way I could survive even the first hour of Day 4. In addition, I was completely exhausted and just wanted to lie down and cry.
My buddies saw my agony and knew the medicine. They took me out for a beer, and I can tell you that the beer in Las Vegas was the best I'd ever had. There's something to be said about that weird city after all.
When play started on Day 4, I came in a half hour late, straight from an Irish pub at the Sands (believe it or not), still drunk and basically carried along by my buddies. In the state that I was I had no intention of staying around longer than it took me to pronounce "all in".
I put the chips in the middle right away, without even sitting down properly. And tripled up. That sure wasn't part of my plan, but I wouldn't be derailed so easy. I put the chips in again. And doubled up.
Suddenly, 60,000 in tournament chips were sitting at my place. I had to focus really hard just to avoid knocking them over. No matter what I did I couldn't seem to lose. Naturally I had to stay around for a while, and to endure the terrible situation I ordered a beer. It helped a little bit and I ordered another one.
My mates were cheering me on from the ropes, and once they caught the drift, they'd have the beer coming at regular intervals. Time went by and I started feeling much better about the whole predicament. People at the table were really nice, the cards had such vibrant colors, and my multicolored chip stack kept growing.
In the end, I walked out of The Rio one million dollars richer. Thanks to the beer, there's no way around that. Of course my buddies got most of it, but they're my buddies and somehow their money is still mine.
As a player who cashed in the WSOP I can tell you: don't play drunk. If you're not a terribly tight and weak fish. With some really good friends to carry you around.
© 2010 compiled from many sources by Howard Daughters
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