Note: readers who are unfamiliar with hold-em rules can find them at ultimate bet dot com. Readers who are unfamiliar with poker terminology may want to read This glossary from CNN first. Or don’t. I’m not the boss of you.
Part one of this story is here.
Part two of this story is here.
Part three of this story is here.
During the shuffle, Mrs. Beautiful turns to me and says, “Hey, where the hell is Shane?”
“He’s . . . babysitting.”
“Babysitting?! Who?”
I tell her that I’m not sure. Mr. Director offers the name of a fairly prominent studio executive, well-known for his tantrums.
“I really don’t know.” I’m sort of glad I don’t.
For the next several hands I get nothing but a bunch of small off-suit junk. The only pair I get is crabs, so I let Mr. director and Mrs. Beautiful beat up on each other while I lose enough in blinds to drop back to third. When the blinds go up to 500-1000, my short stack looks a lot shorter. I have just enough to cover one or two more blind bets, and I’m hoping for a miracle.
Mrs. Beautiful is on the button, Mr. Director is the small blind, and I’m the big blind. She calls. Mr. Director folds, and I look at my cards. There’s my miracle: A-10 hearts. My heart thumps hard in my chest. If I remember what I’ve learned from Doyle Brunson correctly, these are good cards to play 3 handed. It’s time to make my move.
I wrap my left hand around my small stacks of chips, and push them toward the center of the table.
“I’m all in.” I know the words come out of my mouth, but they sound distant.
Mrs. Beautiful studies her pocket cards. “Call.”
Visions of doubling up and making a strong run at second, or even first, begin to dance in my head.
I stand up, and turn over my cards. Mrs. Beautiful bites her lip, and turns over Siegfried and Roy.
Two. Fucking. Queens.
With a gentle smile, she says, “I’m sorry.”
Oh fuck me.
The dealer knocks the table, slides the top card under the the muck, and deals out three cards. He spreads them out with a flourish, just like on TV. He flips them over and the flop is revealed: 9 hearts – 10 diamonds – 5 clubs. I make a pair, but her queens still beat me.
I’m not good enough at math to know what my odds are, but I know that I’m looking at twelve outs — twelve cards out of forty-something that can make my hand: eight hearts put me one off a flush, (One of Mrs. Beautiful’s queens is a heart, but my ace beats her if we make it) one of the two tens makes trips, and either ace would give me two pair. I’m not out . . . yet.
The dealer burns and turns . . . a red deuce . . . is it hearts of diamonds? It’s a heart! The lowly two of hearts. It’s the most beautiful card I’ve seen tonight. Eleven cards left now in this deck that can keep me in this game.
The busted out players who have stuck around to drink surround us like railbirds. A wave of excitement ripples through them.
“Come on, Wil!” Yells Mr. Drunk Guy.
Ever since I played my first game of Hold’em in high school, and learned about the World Series of Poker sometime during my junior year, I’ve entertained notions of playing in the big one. But every time I go to Vegas, I look into those poker rooms, and lose my nerve. Before tonight, I’ve never had the balls to play in anything bigger than a home game with friends . . . I doubt I’ll ever play in the WSOP, but the way I feel right now, I could be at the final table, staring across the felt at Johnny Chan.
I take a deep breath, and grab the back of my chair tightly, I don’t have to look at my knuckles to know that they’re white. Here comes fifth street, and the whole thing is in slow motion: the dealer knocks three times with one knuckle, grabs the red-backed corner of the top card, his thumb covering the little Bicycle cherub, and burns it away. Was that one of my outs? I’ll never know. His hand rests atop the deck, and it feels like an eternity before the river is revealed . . .
. . and it’s the queen of clubs. I go out in third place.
Mrs. Beautiful stands up and hugs me. She smells good. Mr. Director shakes my hand, and tells me that I played well. Mr. Drunk Guy tells me how much he loves me.
I am slow to pick up my jacket. I’m conflicted: in the haze of elimination, I wonder if I made a mistake moving all-in, but I’ve just finished third in my first-ever real money tournament! Before I can walk away from the table, the next hand is dealt. Mr. Director, who has an almost 2-1 chip lead on Mrs. Beautiful even after she wiped me out, says, “Let’s finish this,” and puts her all-in.
She calls. He’s got a pair of jacks, she’s got K-Q.
“What are the odds? If I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t believe it.”
The flop is A spades – Q spades – 4 clubs. Mrs. Beautiful leans forward, and looks intensely at the board. Mr. Director stands up, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
A king (clubs) comes on fourth street, and Mrs. Beautiful takes the lead in the hand with two pair. The excitement level from the fourteen or so people who are in the club rivals the poker room at Binion’s.
Mr. Director and Mrs. Beautiful look at each other. She is chewing furiously on her bottom lip, and it’s incredibly sexy. I wish I was in this hand.
The dealer knocks the table, burns the top card, and the jack of hearts — one of my outs, one hand too late — comes down the river. Mr. Director makes three of a kind, and wins it all on a suck out.
I can’t tell who’s more stunned between them. Mrs. Beautiful reaches across the table and shakes his hand. I look down at the green felt table: nine cards turned up, the rest of the pack spread out next to the dealer. A mountain of chips. I wish I had a camera. This would make a great book cover.
When I look up, they’re both cashing out. The railbirds have wandered away, and music starts to fill the room. The dealer scoops the chips into a bag, and the felt top is carried away under one very large Samoan arm.
I look at my watch: it’s after midnight. Since Sean and I worked together on Toy Soldiers, our careers have taken wildly different paths, and each time I look at this innocent timepiece, I feel a twinge of sadness and regret. Occasionally jealousy. I wear it because it was a generous gift. It’s also a reminder. I watch the second hand sweep slowly around past the 8, and for the first time in ages, I don’t feel like a loser. I feel good. Maybe I’ll finally get up the nerve to call Sean. Maybe I’ll ask him over to play cards. I pick up my coat, and go collect my money.
The girl at the bar counts out a stack of bills. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Jet black hair down her back. Goddamn.
“You’ve never played here before.” She says.
“Nope. I didn’t even know this place existed until two weeks ago.”
“You should come in on a weekend night. It gets crazy in here.”
“Plato’s Retreat crazy?” I ask.
She gives me a blank look. I realize that she can’t be older than 22.
“It was a 70s sex club in New York,” I say. “Not that I went there when I was eight, or anything.”
“Oh.” She smiles. “Well, it gets crazy in here.” She hands me my money. “Your finish gets you a free seat at the next game in two weeks.” There’s a very subtle flirtation. I wonder for the briefest second if it’s me or the cash I am stuffing into my pocket.
“Oh? Cool. I’ll be back then.”
“And don’t forget the weekend.” She takes out a shiny black business card with “Odessa” stamped on the back in red ink, and writes “Jessie” on it. “This will get you in.” She smiles, puts it in my hand, and holds on a little too long.
I’m enjoying this entirely too much. “I usually spend the weekends with my wife and stepkids,” I say, “but I’ll hold onto this.”
“You do that.” She says. “You want anything for the road?”
Do I.
“A bottle of water would be great,” I say.
She turns around and reaches down into a box against the back of the bar. Her shirt lifts up, and reveals a tattoo of ribbon, tied into a bow, just above the top of her black and red —
I really need to get out of here.
“Here you go.” She says.
“Thanks. Bye.” I take the bottle, and walk to the door. Mr. Webmaster is waiting for me.
“Hey, you played really well.” He says.
“Thanks. Too bad I got clobbered by those fucking queens.”
“It happens. Can I ask you a question?”
Oh good. He wants me to introduce him to the agent I don’t have.
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you play on Celebrity Poker Showdown?”
“Because I’m not a celebrity,” I say. “At least, not in the way it matters to Bravo.”
“Aw, fuck them. You can play here whenever you want.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”
“Just bring Shane and his money next time.”
I laugh and shake his hand.
“Will do.”
I walk out the door, and discover a long line of hipsters down the alley, behind a velvet rope. They have no idea about the game. The Odessa keeps a good poker face.
It was a good story Wil. I no nothing about poker but I was racing to the end to see how it turned out. I was sad to read that bit about you and Sean. I know what it’s like to lose contact with a friend you wish you had kept in touch with. I also know the joy of reconnecting. Pick up the phone, call him. Tell him about this story you just wrote and how it got you thinking of him. We’ll all be waiting to hear how it goes!
The sum total of my poker knowledge stems from watching Celebrity Poker Showdown, but this was a fantastic story. A compelling read, with plenty of suspense and great imagery. I totally felt like I was there.
Also? Call Sean. 🙂
That was every bit as good as the game chapters in POSITIVELY FIFTH STREET. You finished higher, too! Top notch work: you had me riveted by the end of the third installment.
One more thing, if Fred Savage qualifies as a “celebrity”, I’m pretty sure you would too.
Did the Bravo comment thingy too..
This 4 part series was THE BEST writing you have
ever posted!!
Let’s help get this man on Cel.Poker!!
Bravo Wil!! Excellente!!
That was fucking amazing. I love that story, especially the continuity with the watch that Sean gave you. “For the first time ages, I don’t feel like a loser.” Wow, even Wil Wheaton feels like a loser?
I can’t wait for Just A Geek! Keep up the good work, man!
Laura
Wil,
I’ve been reading your all-encompassing, mighty blog here for at least a year now, and this is the first time I felt compelled to do anything more than just read. Not that I haven’t enjoyed what you’ve done here in the past (obviously, I wouldn’t have returned otherwise), but this is, without a doubt (at least in my mind), the greatest writing I’ve seen from you here. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that there’s more to follow. *wink, wink…nudge, nudge*
-Pat
Fantastic story. Very well written.
I’m impressed. And I’m picky 🙂
Writers are 50 times more interesting
than actors. And don’t you forget it.
Write On!
Yetzirah
Great job, Wil — I’m proud of you. Third place for a rookie is awesome. I think you earned more than your winnings; sounds like you earned a hell of a lot of respect. Nice job.
“Siegfried and Roy” for 2Q? God, that is freakin’ hilarious; I had to stifle my laughs so my boss wouldn’t come out and see what was so funny. Doubt they’d use THAT on the WPT broadcasts.
Speaking of WPT, got a tournament here in San Jose this week; even if you lose you can win $5K by busting out one of the “celebrities” in the match (James Woods, others). It’ll be on the Travel Channel in June; I’d damn well better have my cable back by then! Maybe next year you can get in the action — just don’t borrow Data’s eyeshade. 😉
Great story…I may have to do a cut and paste so I can put it in my “keepers” file.
I jnow jack squat about Poker, and I didn’t read the Lingo Links you provided, in an attempt to understand how I might sound to some people talking about computers, when they have NO IDEA.
Know what? It was STILL a great story, in fact, my ignorance of the terminology made it all seem even more cool. Incredible writing!
Oh, and one more thing…
CALL SEAN!!!
Tell him we all said so…especially now that you’ve got fatherhood in common. Get the kids all together and go crazy!
Dude did you call Sean? You really should. I don’t think he would think of you as a loser. I just read recently an interview of his where he recounts that he was working as an usher in a theater sweeping up popcorn when Corey freakin Haim shows up for the premiere of The Lost Boys. Give him a call.
Great story, Wil! I kept waiting for Mike Hammer to make an appearance. To me it had that kind of a feeling about it…
Loved the story, and how it was told. I couldn’t wait until your next installment. Maybe you should put that into your next book. I enjoyed reading it.
Congratulations on making 3rd in your first out-of-the-home-not-with-friends game! 🙂
Truly remarkable story! Again, the movie that I was playing in my head was amazing, as your poker tale, and more a tale of the players that make poker what it is, spun out in my head.
Your talent as a writer are great, and I have a feeling that one day this will be a screenplay, starring our favorite blogger/king of the web, Wil Fucking Wheaton.
Thanks for the story,
Leo
Philadelphia
What a great story. I actually couldn’t wait each day to read it at work. And on a side note – my name is Jessie, which I thought was kind of neat. But I definitely was not there that night. 🙂
Good story Wil but unless I missed something, Mr. Director seemed to come out of nowhere. Did I miss an intro or should we assume it doesn’t matter?
Damn, Wil! That was a great story. It got me to thinking about putting together a game.
I’d like to first say that I’m actually not here as a fan of your acting forays. When Penny Arcade linked you, I, though I hate to admit it, clicked the link mainly due to boredom. Where I expected to find the whinings of a washed up former actor, I instead caught a glimpse into the life of a brilliant writer, a stepfather who anyone would be happy to have, and (near as I can tell) a devoted husband.
In other words, you rock, and I’m looking forward to JAG hitting the shelves.
Now, onto your latest writing gem. I’m a huge fan of hold’em (though a horrible player) and this story caught the excitment of the game perfectly. I’d rant and rave about the greatness of the story for several more pages, but I fear this little post is quite long enough.
Before I end this, I will say one thing. Sometimes the hardest thing in the world is to re-connect with someone who drifted away, or who you drifted from. There is always the chance that they will blow you off, or be the person that you feared they would be. But most often, they will just be glad to hear from you. It’s good to spend time with old friends. In other words, like so many others… Call Sean, if you haven’t already.
I am so proud of you. You are so fucking cool. I swear.
And dude. Bravo is full of shit. You’ve always deserved to be on Celebrity Poker. I mean come ON, Tom Green was on the other day. You are so much cooler than him.
And dude, you should totally call Sean Astin. Because yeah. He’s cool. Not like I’d know from personal experience, but yeah.
Good story Wil. This is A-list stuff.
Excellent story. You did great for you first tournament!
Why don’t you join the 2+2 online forum. If you really like poker so much, it’s the best place i’ve ever found to discuss poker. Lotta pro’s on there, including Malmuth, Sklansky, Zee (it’s their site so duh) and other 2+2 authors.
Very entertaining.
Great story! The serial format, though torture for us readers, was a great choice too. I can’t remember being held in such suspense by anything I’ve read on the internet.
Thanks.
I feel like I just read the best book in a long while!! You’ve had me on the edge of my seat for a few days now… and I have to say, the ending is perfect. 😉 I look forward to “the sequel.”
And I do hope that you will call Sean. I’ve found that even after time has passed… there is nothing like catching up with an old friend.
Wil,
That is a great story. Now you know what will come out of your head after a good poker night.
FG
sounds like some good solid play. excellent job!
if you can handle yourself this well, you can do very solidly in a 3/6 or 4/8 or probably even a 6/12 game in a legal room in vegas — someplace kind of fishie like the bellagio on a friday night into saturday morning.
Well done on third place — I’ve played a few “legal” tourneys over at the bike, and got “into the money” the first couple of times as well [in, get this, OMAHA hi/low! ] (for the rest of you non-poker readers, The Omaha variant of holdem is the reason cardrooms serve tylenol…) Never made third though — I think something like 5th has been about the best. (OTOH, I’ve won a “jackpot” by losing w/four queens, but so far as “poker” is concerned, that’s kind of like collecting the jailbird pot in Monopoly by landing on free parking — an unofficial variant that everyone plays…)
Seriously, though, you should be ready for when Bravo does call — as people have pointed out, if Fred is considered “star” material, YOU should have no problem getting in, and after your loyal readers have all clicked the link provided by Erbo, I’m sure you’ll be hearing from them soon 🙂
In the meantime, you really should consider the local/legal cardrooms around here — they DO have regular tournament play games with VERY modest “buy-ins” [like $15, however they do allow “rebuys” for the first hour, which can easily get to $100 if you’re not careful…]
p.s. 1: someone mentioned “finding a magazine that would publish this” — for this there is one more reason to visit a “real” casino: to pick up a copy of poker player magazine 🙂
p.s. 2: For the guy wondering about where “Mr. Director” came in, recall part four was mostly “final table” action — usually a tourney will start with several tables; as players lose and leave the game, they will consolidate players onto fewer tables. I’d imagine he originally started on one of the other tables. [but you’re right — from the point of view “of a story”, Wil forgot to “introduce him to the reader”]
Great story, Wil! Like many of the other posters here, I know very little about poker, but this story had me rivetted from first to last. The serial format is definitely a good idea – I wrote to Bravo too and told ’em I give their poker show Three Thumbs Up on my Tivo if they had you on 🙂
And give Sean a call too. Tell him we pushed you into it, if he gives you a hard time. He knows what power a fanbase can have – did you see how the LotR cast/crew went to the fan party BEFORE going to the official New Line party ?
That is an *incredible* story, and a great piece of writing. I’m especially thrilled because I understood most of the poker terms! Good job, Wil!
Wil, I found a link to your page and story on a poker website! Thank you for this beautifully written piece that had me smiling the whole way through.
For those of us who dare to dream poker dreams.. I thank you. You’ve very effectively put into words the rollercoaster ride that has us addicted to this crazy game.
Bravo!
We BETTER see you on the next Celeb. Poker Challenge!
Well done, it’s no Positively Fifth Street but then again you didn’t
careen off into a bunch of Sylvia Plath quotes,
so very well done!
I’d be stunned if you couldn’t get this picked up by a men’s magazine, Maxim, Playboy, etc
and possibly roll it into a Celebrity Poker
appearance.
But then again I’m equally stunned that Brennon Braga hasn’t picked you up as the evil mastermind
behind the plot to make the Xindi destroy earth
just to fek with everyone’s heads. So what do I know?
Wil, thanks for the fun read. Someone posted on wptfan.com about contacting Bravo to get Wil on Celebrity Poker. The “I feel like Howard fucking Lederer” bit had me laughing out loud so I had to make it the wptfan.com quote of the day. Wil, if you want, I’ll ask Phil Gordon about how to get on Celebrity Poker, but I think they’ve already selected the celebrities for the next season.
Holy shit. Andy Bloch?!
I love watching you play, man. I’m gonna try to make it down to Commerce tomorrow. I hope you make the final table. 🙂
third place?!? You suck!
Actually, that is pretty damn cool.
I’m playing tonight. Whoo hoo! Congrats Wil, next time – do even better, Moneymaker.
You know, I never thought much about you as an actor. Toy Soldiers, that guy on Star Trek, you didn’t seem like a person that’d get much in the way of screen time. Call it bad luck combined with typecasting if you want.
The thing is after reading your story, trying to determine if it’s fact or fiction, I’ve decided my initial conclusions were correct.
I now believe you’d be one–hell–of a screenwriter.
May you kick ass in all your creative literature, Wil Wheaton.
Great story, and good luck next time.
By the way, just a little hint… the girl at the end, cashing you out? Next time, you might want to tip her.