Poker News

Oh Brother Part 2, A Joe and Hobby Fiction

[Read Part 1]

I was on the fantail of Hobby’s yacht, Lazybuns, sipping a spicy bloody Mary. “Hobby, can you get a hold of your buddy who won the 7-card stud at the WSOP?”

“You mean Benny; maybe. What’s up?”

“Get him on the speaker phone, please. I’m still working this out.”

After Hobby took care of the preliminaries, I spoke up. “Hi, Benny. Maybe you can help us. Two extraordinary things happened yesterday. Well, maybe just one; the second is yet to be confirmed. A stranger showed up at my door who was the son of my stepmother. I’m overjoyed with the prospects of having some kind of relative, and this guy, Jimmy, who’s a really a country boy seems to be a nice kid. To top it off, he tells Hobby and me that he loves poker and has a habit of winning. So, we put him in a game at the Bike and he cleans the table.”

“Really! What’s his game?”

“That’s why we called you, Benny. It’s 7-card. We want to find out if last night was just a fluke, or if he’s got a magic touch.”

“Forget it, guys. I’ve been playing for twenty-five years with all the top players. No one has a magic touch.”

“You’re probably right, Benny, but we’d like you to play with the kid and see how he does. It’s worth five-hundred to us, and you can keep what you win,” Hobby said.

He hesitated, and then said, “I’ll do it, Hobby, if you’ll give me a ride on that fancy boat of yours.”

“Done deal,” Hobby said gladly.

It was a couple days before we got Benny and Jimmy together on Lazybuns. Hobby’s contribution was to provide us with a panorama of the California coast while the old pro and novice went at it, head-to-head. I did the dealing. For an hour, the momentum went back and forth between them, Jimmy wasn’t winning, but interestingly- against the top player in the country-he hadn’t lost much either.

When they took a break, Benny said, “The kid’s good-and lucky. I haven’t been able to get in a groove yet, but I will. It’s just a matter of time.”

Benny was right about it being a matter of time, but it was Jimmy who found the groove.

Just as we had seen at the Bike, when Jimmy got into big pots he almost always won. We had started them with $500 in chips, each. Jimmy now had them all.

“What do you think, Joe,” Hobby asked.

“Let’s ask the expert,” I answered. “How about it, Benny?”

“I wouldn’t go up against Jimmy again. He reads me like a book.”

Hobby couldn’t wait to grill Jimmy. “How do you do it? Are you a mind reader?”

“I don’t know what it is. I study the down cards and then try to think of what the other guy might have. If something doesn’t feel right, I know he has better cards and I fold. If I don’t get that bad feeling, I bet.”

“Can you do it with everyone?” I asked.

“No. Some I can’t read at all, so I only bet against them if I have a really good hand.”

“I wish you could teach us, but maybe it’s like being psychic. You either have it or you don’t. Jimmy, I’m convinced you’ve got something that almost guarantees you’ll be a winner. The question is: what do you want to do about it?”

“Do you think I could make a living playing poker?” he asked.

Hobby answered, “If you could repeat what you did at the Bike and here today, you could make a fortune.” I seconded that.

“I want to try,” Jimmy said with passion, “how do I start?”

“Jimmy, you can probably do it on your own. I’d just caution you to start slowly and be careful who you associate with.”

Jimmy looked perplexed.

“I wouldn’t know where to start, or what to do. Could you guys- like-be my managers?”

We told Jimmy about our success managing the Third Eye team that won millions and proposed we manage and stake him for a percentage of the winnings.

He was thrilled, chomping at the bit to get started. We didn’t want to over-expose Jimmy, so we made a round robin of casinos near our home base, playing a few hours at each. Jimmy, according to our advice, kept a low profile. He was a fairly consistent winner and at the end of the first week had won about $10K.

At Commerce we heard of a big seven-card cash game being organized- $50K entry, winner takes all. Frankly, the money was more of a commitment than I was comfortable with, but as a gambler, I thought there was justification.

Hobby, on the other hand, would have gladly put up much more.

The private game room was spacious and brightly lighted over the central poker table. We were early and stood off to the side as others arrived. I recognized a couple of the guys as heavy hitters at local casinos. Suddenly Jimmy grabbed my arm and gasped, “Oh, no.” Then I spotted him, too. He was the loser who threatened Jimmy at the Bike after his first win. Hobby, after enticing the guy to take a swing at him, put him down and had him thrown out of the casino.

The players took their seats and the games began. It wasn’t long before the troublemaker was head-to-head with Jimmy in a big pot. He and Jimmy both had straights, but Jimmy’s was one card higher. The loser was livid and shook his fist at Jimmy. After that big loss to Jimmy, he was on tilt and soon wiped out and departed.

The game went on into the wee hours of the morning. Jimmy was doing well and was one of the last three players.

A hand Jimmy mucked after the deal turned into a Donnybrook as the other two players bet heavily card after card until one went all in. The loser was out of chips, leaving Jimmy heads-up with one player. An hour later, Jimmy had it all. He took a receipt for $450,000.

We were giddy with Jimmy’s success and a bit numb from the strenuous concentration on the match. Jimmy was behind us as we headed out of the casino. A scream pierced the air. We turned to see someone hitting Jimmy over the head with a club.

It was our sore loser, but this time he was trying to kill Jimmy. Within seconds, Hobby and I were all over the guy, but I was afraid it was too late. Blood was streaming from Jimmy’s head.

It was little consolation to see the cops taking the assailant away in handcuff. We rode in the ambulance with Jimmy as the medics worked over him. He was unconscious. There were tense hours ahead with Jimmy in the operating room. At last a doctor still in messy scrubs came to us with the news. “We opened the cranium to relieve the pressure of accumulated blood. He had a serious concussion, but there may not be any permanent brain damage. We’ll know in a day or too.”

Jimmy recovered completely, with one exception. He had lost his knack for reading other players. “It’s a hell of a tragedy, Jimmy. We’re really sorry,” I told him after we learned he’d lost the touch.

“It’s okay, guys. I don’t think I was cut out for that kind of life anyway. The good part is that I now have money to buy a garage back in Kansas and work on engines. I think I’ll be happier doing that.”

“That’s great,” Hobby said, “I guess poker isn’t for everyone.”

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