It’s one thing meeting your hero, Doyle Brunson, but when you get to beat him at his own game it’s a dream come true, as Nick Wealthall discovers
Of course, as I’ve matured I’ve put that kind of giggling wide-eyed stupor to bed – until I played poker with Doyle Brunson earlier this month…
The Big Game
I should explain here and now that I hadn’t sold several members of my family into slavery to raise the $100,000 required to sit in his usual game. Instead, I was at the monthly Century Club tournament sponsored by DoylesRoom.com. I knew that Doyle was going to be playing, but obviously my chances of sitting anywhere near him were remote. That was until I realised my good friend Jacqui was in charge of the, erm, ‘totally random’ seat draw (hey, it pays to have an edge).
One undignified spell of discreet begging, pleading and bribing later and I’d secured the seat next to the great man. After a stiff gin I sat down and introduced myself. Luckily I didn’t have to worry about the poker part of the evening – I was sitting on Doyle’s left so I had position on him. Obviously that would more than negate the Grand Canyon-like gulf between our relative abilities. I reminded him that in Super/ System he says he almost never check-raises; sadly he wouldn’t give me a firm commitment not to.
Meeting one of your heroes is about as good as it gets in life – therefore I’m sure that if they’re not everything you imagined them to be it must be crushing. Fortunately, Doyle Brunson is all I or anyone else could ask for: he’s great company, has a wealth of stories, the odd magic trick and is extremely accommodating to the endless autograph and picture requests he gets. None of them came from me of course – I was too busy grinning, giggling and staring.
And then Doyle and I played poker. As we started, one thought predominated – I wasn’t leaving the room without taking a pot off him; if he was in, I was in. I suspect this impulse isn’t uncommon among players coming face to face with Texas Dolly for the first time, and has probably kept the great man in cowboy hats and massive ranches for many years. Even so, I was determined.
The game started and we all tried to play poker like it was just another day at the felt. There was a period of silence as we tried to process what was going on. We’d paid the normal £30 buy-in and for some unfathomable reason the best-known player in poker was sitting at our table. It was one of those situations your brain really can’t take in – it was too weird to be real. I half expected my Mum to walk in dressed as an Alsatian.
Chance of a lifetime
Early on in the rebuy period I got my first chance to play with the best. About six of us had limped in and I held the slightly iffy Q-J. The flop came 9-8-x. An early player bet and Doyle moved all-in. So here was a dilemma: correct poker decision- making versus the chance to win a pot from Doyle and bore my grandchildren to death for years. It took me only a second to push my chips in with my gutshot and two overs; hey, I had to have outs, right?
Doyle flipped up Q-9 – one of the worst hands for me he could have in that spot. I would need to suck out to fulfil my ambition. The turn brought the glorious 10…, filling my straight and winning me the pot. Doyle immediately shouted for chips and someone nearby announced that I’d busted him. There was a bounty on Doyle’s head (as if we needed an incentive to play pots with the man) so everyone burst into applause. Now there’s a time for class and decorum, there’s a time to announce that it’s just the rebuy period so I hadn’t, in fact, won the bounty, and there’s also a time to start celebrating like a child… I did the latter.
The truth dies here
I need to make the following disclaimer. This is the only time I will accurately report what happened in the hand. In the future when I recount this experience – in bars, at dinner parties, to my bored grandchildren – the suckout will be replaced by a great read by me, and a stunning bluff by him… just so you know.
Sadly, Doyle was eliminated soon after the end of the rebuy period. I promised I’d play him at the Bellagio one day. He said that if I did could I please play as badly again.
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