“I don’t want to fuck up the drama . . . but this story is far from over. I’m not thinking about quitting, and I’m not staring into an abyss, at all. . . just try to hold on and enjoy the ride . . . We’re still in the first act.”
My body is in my dining room, but my mind is spread out along 220 miles of I-15. It should catch up with me in a day or so.
A long, lonely drive across the desert as afternoon slowly moved through dusk and into night gave me a lot of time to replay every hand I saw in Vegas. Where other drivers saw the giant thermometer at the Bun Boy, I saw a Jack-high flop that cost me a lot of checks. The click-thump-click-thump-click-thump of seams in the pavement blurred into the click-click click-click click-click of shuffling and stacking chips. The smiling face of an old prospector directing tourists to the Calico Ghost Town turned into the smiling face of a suckout artist directing my chips into his stack, two hands before he spewed them across the table to the one guy who I was trying to avoid playing against without the nuts.
I walked with Greg Raymer on my way into the 1500 event yesterday. Greg is a fellow member of Team PokerStars, the 2004 World Series Champion, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met in my life. If ever there was a perfect ambassador for the game, it’s Greg.
About every fifteen steps, someone would stop him and ask for a picture or autograph. Though he was scheduled to start in under twenty minutes, Greg obliged every single person, and I marveled at how he made each of them feel like they were the only person in the world when he talked to them.
“I bet this is what it’s like for you at a Star Trek convention, huh?” He said to me as we neared the entrance to the tournament area.
“Sort of.” I said. “Fifteen years ago, maybe.”
We passed Gavin Smith. Greg playfully pushed him into the wall.
“I swear to fucking god, Greg, if you win again, I’m going to kick your ass!” Gavin said.
They both laughed, and Greg wished him good luck.
“Can I bother you for some advice?” I asked him. “I’m playing in the 1500 today.”
“Play smart.” He said.
It’s good, solid advice, but wasn’t exactly the deep insight I was hoping to divine from the world champion. I think my shoulders involuntarily slumped a little bit.
“Thanks,” I said, and extended my hand. “You don’t need it, but good luck today.”
He took my hand, and pulled me close to him. “Just remember that you’ve got to be happy with your decisions,” he said. “Even if you get unlucky, you can leave here with your head up, because you’re happy with your decisions.”
I felt like I was the only person in the world when he talked to me. I squeezed his hand, and thanked him. We parted company, and headed to our respective tables.
He started today as the chip leader with just over a million. Phil Ivey, who started yesterday with 89K ( Paul Phillips: “Of course. 90K is par and Ivey with par is like a normal person with the chip lead.”) has 722K. Amazing.
ninety-eight hours earlier
I walked out of the alcove of despair and back into the teeming throng of spectators. I second-hand smoked two packs of unfiltered cigarettes as I made my way past them, and through the Poker Lifestyle Expo. Before I walked out into the blast furnace that is a Las Vegas parking lot in July, I stopped to call Paul Phillips. We’d been talking about getting together while I was in town, and since I’d just found myself with a few days worth of free time, I figured our odds of hanging out had increased.
He answered and said, “I hope you’re calling me because you’re on a break.”
“Yes, I’m on a very long break,” I said.
“A 363 day break?” He said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Did you go out tough, or did you go out hating yourself?”
I’ve learned that poker players don’t tell their bad beat stories to each other (they just repeat them endlessly on their blogs), so I just said, “I lost a race with a short stack. Do you want to call off the trade?”
A couple of weeks earlier, Paul had offered to trade 1% of each other. This is common among top pros: unless they’re playing at the same table, in which case the trade is called off for ethical reasons, they’ll trade small percentages of their winnings, mostly for amusement — 1% of 7 million isn’t going to make much of a difference in these guys’ lives. When Paul offered the trade, I will admit that I felt like a superstar, but I offered 2% of myself in return: “I think you’re taking the worst of it with an even trade,” I said.
He laughed. “I don’t think so, and I’m happy to have a horse in the race, especially if this World Series is anything like the last two.”
“Okay, so 1% it is.”
A few of the bodog girls walked by. I tried my best to look at anything else, and failed.
“No, we already agreed.”
“Well, then I’m going to give you 30% of my nothing, as a gesture of goodwill and tribute.”
He laughed. “So what’s your schedule like? Do you want to join us for dinner tonight?” He said.
“I’m going to The Palms to play in the 7pm tournament tonight, but I’m free all day tomorrow.”
A few of the Absolute girls walked by. The conventional wisdom was that they’d hired strippers and porn stars. I don’t know if that was true or not, but they all had the lower back tattoo, and wore high-heels, so you can draw your own conclusion.
“I’m playing tomorrow,” he said. “How long are you here?”
“Until at least Monday,” I said.
“Okay. We’ll figure something out.”
A few of the — no, wait, those are just hookers.
I wished him luck, and hung up the phone. The battery was getting hot from all the talking, so I stood there for a minute and spun it around in my hands.
A teenager in a Linkin Park cap walked up to me.
He pointed at my shirt and said, “Did you qualify on PokerStars?”
I stopped spinning the phone and said, “No, I’m actually part of Team PokerStars.”
His eyes got huge. “Really?!”
If he only knew . . .
“Yeah,” I said.
“Do you know Chris Moneymaker?”
I nodded my head. “A little bit. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times.”
“Is he cool?”
“Yes. He’s very cool.” I said.
“Do you know Fossilman?”
“Yep.”
“Is he cool?”
“Yes,” I said. “He’s one of the coolest people I know, actually.”
“Do you think he’s going to win again?”
I wanted to tell him that Greg was a lock, because I know that’s what he wanted to hear, but I said, “I don’t know. The field is so large, it’s unlikely that we’ll ever see a repeat champion, much less back-to-back . . . but if anyone can do it, it’s Fossilman.”
An older woman with the same eyes as the kid walked over to us. She looked at me warily.
“Lucas? We need to go.” Her thick accent matched his, too. I placed them in West Texas . . . maybe Odessa.
“Okay, mom.” He pointed to me. “He knows Fossilman and Moneymaker!”
She looked at me again, with the same mother wolf gaze I’ve seen my wife use when strangers talk to our kids.
“Are you a professional poker player, too?” She said.
“No, Ma’am,” I said. “I’m just a writer who likes to play cards.”
I extended my hand. “My name’s Wil,” I said.
She shook it politely, but the gaze did not waver. “My son worships those men,” she said. “It’s always World Poker Tour this and Howard something that!”
Lucas said, “It’s Howard Lederer, mom. He’s the professor, and his sister is Annie Duke.”
I smiled.
“Annie busted me in a tournament earlier this year,” I said.
“Really?!” He said. “That’s so cool!” Then, “No, I mean, it’s not cool, but . . . I mean . . .”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I know what you mean. It was cool to play with her, but not so cool to lose to her on the River.”
It must have been like we were talking in code. His mother said, “He thinks he’s going to be a pro some day. Do you have any advice for him?”
I looked at the kid: teenage acne ravaged his cheeks. He was tall and gangly, just like me when I was his age. He seemed to hide beneath his Linkin Park cap, the same way I hid beneath my Dodgers cap. He looked back at me, expectantly.
“How old are you?” I said.
“Sixteen.”
“Okay, the most important thing you can do is . . .”
“Yeah?” He said.
“The most important thing is to work as hard as you can in school, because the choices you make now will affect your life more seriously than you think. And if you want to be a poker player, pay attention in math — especially statistics.”
His shoulders slumped. I knew this isn’t what he wanted to hear, so I continued, “It’s also not like the games you see on TV. Until you’re Gus Hansen, if you raise with King Nine off suit under the gun, you’re going to go broke.”
Behind him, another crowd of booth babes walked by. “Too bad your mom is right here, dude,” I thought.
“Study Winning Low Limit Hold’Em, and when you’re ready, read Both of Dan Harrington’s books. ” I said. “And even if you don’t respect the player, always respect the game.”
He nodded his head. “Okay.”
“And when you’re in the World Series, don’t ever play pocket tens out of position against Paul Darden.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Why?”
“Because if you’re me, it’ll be the beginning of the end of your Tournament.” I said. “That’s why you’ve got to stay in school, so you’ve got something to fall back on when the cards don’t fall your way.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I said. I shook his hand, and pointed toward the tournament area. “I hope to see you in there some day.”
His face was devoured by a huge grin. “Me too, man!”
His mother patted him on the shoulder and shooed him away. “Your daddy’s in the restaurant,” she said.
She looked at me while he walked up the walkway toward the cafe. “Thank you,” she said. “You just made his day.”
“I’ve got two of my own,”I said, “about his age.”
She frowned. “Aren’t you a little young for teenagers?”
Raise.
“Yes, I am.” I looked back at her and waited.
Re-raise.
She looked at me for a long time and said, “Well, thank you for talking with my son. And thank you for telling him how important school is.”
Fold.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” I said. “Nice talking with you.”
I walked out to my car, and drove to The Palms. I had a tournament to win.
to be continued . . .
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All I can say is good luck with the tourney. And that was a great conversation with the kid.
I just wanted to say what excellent advice that was, and I’m really enjoying the way The Writer is relaying the stories!
Practicing your poker in mid-conversation!? I love it.
Wil,
Man you are such a damn good writer. Seriously. The way you related the story of walking with Raymer, talkign to the kid and his mother, I felt like I was there – watching the whole thing.
I can’t wait for your first poker book. Get working on that, already! 🙂
Your storytelling abilities never fail to enchant me. My father (a wannabe poker player himself) keeps getting links to your poker stories in email, and he always calls me after he reads them, all excited and wanting to discuss what happened in your hands, and I have to remind him that I know nothing about any type of card game. But thanks for giving my dad an excuse to call me. 🙂
Wil,
You are a hero. Day after day, you take your extraordinary sensibility into the combat zone — whether poker or auditions — and bring us back fire. I’m continually amazed that you can risk yourself so, heart and senses open, in situations of conflict and rejection, and create such closely observed and lyrical words from it. You have a great gift. May you receive joy ten times your sacrifice of suffering.
Live long and prosper, Anna
Wil, may I say as a teacher a huge thank you to you for what you said to that kid. It’s a point I often try to drive home to my kids when they tell me of their sports star dreams. So important to have that education. I even say it to the kids who tell me that they’re wanting to work at Wal Mart. I tell them the education allows it to be a choice to work at Wal Mart, not an only option.
I can’t wait to read the next installment of your story, but I wanted to comment on this post in particular. I’ve been a huge fan of yours since I was little and watching TNG at 11 pm on the living room floor with my older sister (sneaking out of bed after our parents were asleep), but what you said really has made me admire you even more.
Beautifully written, Wil. Smooth, exquisite and delightfully tangy. Good luck at your next tournament. We’re all rooting for you.
“Just remember that you’ve got to be happy with your decisions,” he said. “Even if you get unlucky, you can leave here with your head up, because you’re happy with your decisions.”
I think this is actually the secret to life. It’s certainly the secret to surviving the entertainment industry with your psyche intact!
Reminded me of the story about skipping vacation with your family for that audition.
Just keep on truckin, man. As long as you’re having fun, who cares about the outcome? Well, actually, I do, but that’s besides the point. Wait, I’m confused, because that is the point I’m trying to make.
Since I’m just going in circles with that, do you have any advice for a girl going to an engineering college with a guy:girl ratio of 14:1? It’s weird coming from an all girls’ high school in SoCal and going to this college now in Michigan.
Help!
Thanks,
Ruth
p/s: hope the family’s doing well.
You and the kid: That was so awesome.
Dude, posts like this are why I read your site. Thank you.
Wil,
Great story, although it was long. You had a nice adventure.
FG
Wil, I’m loving the poker stories. You’re writing about the game, but you’re also putting so much more into it than just cards or gambling. Keep the stories coming — I’m looking forward to reading more. Also, I think the advice you gave that teenager was right on. Way to be straight up with him.
Of all your posts the best ones always seem to involve kids, yours and others. Maybe you should add teacher to all your other hats.
Best of luck in the next tourney
Absolutely amazing stuff Wil. It blows my mind sitting here at work and reading this. I can see the people, smell the smells, feel the heat from the sun, and it’s been over 13 years since I was in Vegas last. Your writing skills grow by the day and you’ll make a bestseller or ten before you’re done.
I was joking with a friend (another WWdN reader) today that maybe busting out of the tournaments is the Universe nudging you to get your ass writing.
Damn, these little anecdotes of yours are good. I can only imagine a full-strength, novel-length dose. You do have a unique ability to make your scenes very present for the reader–or the reader very present for the scene, depending on your semantic stance. Plus, your one-liners are a fucking hoot (“just hookers”).
Thats really awesome Wil, the advice to the boy in the LP cap. I work at a school, and more kids need to hear words like that, and take them to heart.
…be happy with your decisions…
Good advice, universal advice.
Really good advice, all the way around. But I acutally have a question, and I know this isn’t the best post to ask it, but damnit, someone’s gotta know:
games of our lives on the onion a.v. club has an article by Wil, but the tag line is cyphered, and I’m just too damn lazy and tired to try and and decrypt it. Has anyone bothered to try? Wil, make it easy for us, what does it say?
Great story Wil. Can’t wait to read the next installment.
Oh, and thanks. I wasn’t awaare it was the lower back tattoo that made me a stripper/hooker. Now I know. 🙂
Just had to say that little play-by-play with the Mom there at the end was great. Nice way to start my day. Looking forward to more installments.
Wil, although this doesn’t have anything to do with poker, I just wanted to let you know that I think you are as friendly with your fans as Greg is with his, based on other peoples’ experiences that I’ve heard about, and the one time I met you after your “Dancing Barefoot” show at Acme.
Sorry that you didn’t have the greatest luck in Vegas playing poker this year, but man, what a story you’re telling! This is some of your best writing ever.
Wil,
Great writing as always. I don’t think it’ll ever stop amusing me that in your efforts to stop being Wesley Crusher, you’ve pretty much turned into Gordie LaChance. 😉
I would wish you luck, but I’ve observed that you tend to create your most acclaimed writing after experiencing ill fortune, so I’m going to try and *not* interfere with your mojo, for fear of jinxing it. =)
You make it look so easy, Wil. Gorgeous writing. I feel blessed to get all this for free.
What a great story, your words provide a great snapshot of what you (and many others) are going through. I only hope some day I can get to that level of writing.
Cheers man, and good luck next year.
Did you make that deal with Greg? Because first place takes 7 million.
honest to the gods! this is the best damn writing you have ever done!!!
Your writing amazes me, I can see your surroundings, the people you talk to, everything, all from your writing. It is a blessing, Wil, always remember that. You are blessed and you are admired and most of all, you are loved.
Great series of writing Wil. Sorry you busted out of the tournament though. Good job encouraging the kid to study hard and practice teh maths.
BTW, I loved the bit about “… my wit and charm started writing checks my body couldn’t cash” from a few days ago.
I have been catching up on the WSOP reports and loving them. Great writing. I especially loved the “raise” and “reraise” inserts in the conversation with the kid’s mother. Priceless stuff!
Thanks for the terrific posts, I’ll be watching for the next installment.
Very cool man.
In your posistion I might have found this a ‘defining moment’. Although I imagine you’ve hit this long ago with your books and performances. Not Wil Wheaton the actor or Wil Wheaton of Star Trek. But a member of Team PokerStars. But the real cool thing is that I could feel that through your writing.
Don’t get down about your playing. As you said yourself, “”No, Ma’am,” I said. “I’m just a writer who likes to play cards.”
And you are for sure a writer.
Lovely…
Wil,
I think my husband is getting tired of me saying: “The more I read Wil Wheaton’s blog, the more I find out what a cool guy he is.”
And yet, I’m going to have to say it again. The conversation you had with that kid and his mom is the epitome of humility. That is not something most people would think about when it comes to TV stars.
Good job there! and keep writing about poker… I just might learn something.
Wil, as I’ve been reading your evocative stories of Las Vegas, with the second-hand smoke, the alcove of despair, your conversational poker games, and so on, I found scenes from “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” running in the back of my mind in counterpoint. It’d be great to have a reading which alternated between your stories with Hunter’s — sort of you and the Anti-Wil.
Sweet. That’s too cool. Wil Wheaton, Poker Star.
Awesome. Simply awesome. Wil, this series about your experiences in the WSOP is perhaps your finest writing yet. You truly are growing as a writer and your words are more comfortable than they’ve even been. From Dancing Barefoot to JAG to now, your writing has improved markedly. I think I speak for all the readers when I say Thank You for your lush and rich storytelling ability. Plus, the poker nerds of us get to feel like we’re actually there, like we’re the one in first position with the dragon breathing down our necks.
Keep the keys clicking, Wil. 50,000 monkeys may be able to reproduce the works of Shakespeare, but they can never equal one Wil.
“I’m just a writer who likes to play cards.”
I was just at lunch with my boss (he took me out for my birthday today) and we were talking about my job. I’m his bookkeeper and I said I needed to start taking my writing more seriously. He said “I thought you liked numbers.” I said “I’m just a writer who likes to pay my bills.”
This was BEFORE I read your story (which was wonderful by the way). He’s actually the only person I’ve really said “I’m a writer” to. And shows how much he knows – I barely passed Algebra in high school and I’m pretty sure I passed it in college more due to the mini skirts and scooped necklines popular in the day than any real math skill on my part.
Back to your story however, I can see every site and hear every sound. I’ve given that particular mom look to people myself. You gave excellent advice and hopefully the kid will listen – and it’s been my experience that kids will listen more to what a stranger says than they do their parents so you’ve made a difference. If you take nothing else from your WSOP time, you’ve encouraged a child to follow his dream. In my opinion, that’s better than any size pot.
Wil, you wrote “”No, Ma’am,” I said. “I’m just a writer who likes to play cards.””
I did enjoy your acting (I confess to being most familiar with “Stand By Me” and TNG), but I am really, really enjoying your writing. I’ve been reading your blog for about four months, and am awaiting ‘Just a Geek’ from Amazon. Really looking forward to more of your writing and hope to see you put out a novel sometime soon.
I loved the advice to the kid too – hope he takes it to heart. One can never truly regret getting an education.
Thank you for talking to that teenager. It’ll mean an awful lot to him later, too, a great memory of the guy that TALKED to him, not just said “thanks” and walked off. Maybe he’ll think of you as he graduates high school. Never forget the influence you can have.
I bought “Jane White Is Sick and Twisted,” and I have to say, I really enjoy it. I’m impressed you’ve worked in the “independent film” circuit. Gives hope to the up-and-comers, you know?
I’ve gotten Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood to sign the case. Someday I hope I’ll get your signature, too. (Don’t be afraid of the 37 y/o woman. That’s all she’s there for. *G*)
Take care.
Stupid Question #57:
When and where will the Tournament be on the tube? I keep seeing ’04 stuff.
Also, I have to share this with you: I was at a pro basketball playoff game a few weeks back (in the expensive seats) and a professional poker player was there being treated like a king by the locals. He knew how to work it and made sure his hosts were entertained. But it made me laugh, a few years ago nobody would have known who this guy was. Now he was receiving more attention than the (male) movie actor who was sitting a few rows over. It’s amazing what televised poker tournaments can do.
One more thing, what’s the deal with tattoos on lower backs, does it mean something? At the same basketball game all the men around us were only diverted from the poker player by the cross tattoo on Eva Longoria’s back, just above the panty line.
As one of the wives ‘who might as might as well be wearing a housecoat,’ (thanks a lot Wil) it was truly amazing.
AnnieHay
D’Oh! I meant Eva Lopez, of the Desperate Housewives fame. Eva Longoria is a girl I went to school with. No tattoos there.
AH
Double D’Oh! I really meant Eva Longoria. Eva Lopez was my schoolmate. (Going home, now. Sheesh!)
AH
With what you told that kid, Wil, I think you just “paid PokerStars forward.” (Kid, if you’re reading this: What Wil told you was true. All of it.) Hopefully, this is one thing that happened in Vegas that won’t stay in Vegas, at least, not for him.
As for your writing, all I can say is: The Muse is definitely guiding you. Keep following whereever she leads.
(For the curious: ESPN’s coverage of the 2005 WSOP begins July 19. No idea if they’re going to start right off on the Main Event or cover some of the other events first.)
Yeah Wil,
Aren’t you a little young to have teenagers? 🙂 Fun post. Hope the 1500 goes better.
Great post Wil,
Yeah you’re way too young to have teenagers. Break a leg in the next tournament. Good advice to the 16 year old. Education in any form can only help the generations to come.
Rosemary
BTW- I just watched Jane White is Sick and Twisted…..quite the wig you had on! Your character was so ….cute! I didn’t recognize Danicia at all! You must’ve had fun making that! You have a wonderful sense of humour. One day I’ll fly to LA for the weekend to come see your stand up comedy troupe.
Interesting story. Although I must admit I am more proud that I recognize the title as an obscure U2 lyric. Took me about 2 days of thinking, but it finally clicked this morning. At least I hope that is what Wil was quoting 🙂
Beautiful imagery. Try a screenplay, please.
Let me ask you…do you think it’s wrong to ocassionally, and for no good reason, yell BINGO! at the table, even when you are not in the hand?
Scared Bunny Blog
good job with the kid Wil, and yes you are a little young to have one his age 🙂