Poker Articles

Killer Max By Max Shapiro

My sweetie was not in a good mood. "Vince Burgio told me you did something shameful, and if he's right, I'm going to be very mad at you" "I never flirted with anybody," I protested. "As if you would be stupid enough to try, you old fool," she laughed. "That's not what I'm talking about." "I never loaned Dirty Wally any money," I assured her. "I don't mean that either; you know what I'm talking about."

We were at an L.A.-area casino for some tournaments, and my mind raced over the day's events, trying to remember what Vince could have caught me doing. Did he spot me honking at that old lady hobbling across a crosswalk? (And how would I explain the dent in the hood where the old dame whacked it with her cane?) Did he see me lift those two perfectly good shrimp from somebody's discarded plate in the poker room? Or could it have been when I was in the jacuzzi and ... "I'm talking about what you did in the no-limit tournament." "What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled. "I played perfectly. I ended up only three tables out of the money, my highest finish ever." "Vince says you made a $2,000 raise, and when someone re-raised all in with his last $200, you folded."

"Oh ... that."

"What did you have?" my sweetie demanded.

"I was bluffing. I only had something like a 6 and a 4, I think."

"You bluff with a 6-4? Come on, what did you really have?

"Well, maybe it was more like a 10-8 suited."

"MAXWELL!"

"All right, it was an ace-king. But it wasn't suited. I was only trying to get in the money once, before I die."

"That may be sooner than you think, you wimp! You are the biggest wuss I ever met. Say something!" she ordered.

"Don't hit me." My sweetie threw up her hands.

"OK, that does it. I'm going to make a killer out of you if it kills you. You're going to take a course in assertiveness training with an expert therapist."

A few days later I found myself walking reluctantly into the office of Dr. Wolfgang Krock, the eminent poker psychologist. He was on the phone, talking to his wife: "Ya, I vill remember to pick up der quart of milk on der vay home, dear. Ya, I vill be sure to check der respiration date, dear. Ya, I vill pick up your dry cleaning ..." Just then he noticed me, and his tone of voice abruptly changed. "Who do you tink you are talking to, anyvay? I am der man of der house, und you can run your own shtinking errands!" (I would have been more impressed if I hadn't seen him first press down the receiver button.) The good doctor invited me in. "Vell, vell," he observed, in his usual diplomatic manner, "I see dot Barbara is calling you der vuss und der vimp, und I haf to put some backbone into you, you jellyfish. Hokay, ve start by testing you mit der vord association. I say someting, und you tell me der first t'ing you t'ink of." Dr. Krock began reading from a questionnaire:

"You haf pocket kings."

I replied with my first thought: "Somebody probably has pocket aces."

Doc Krock frowned and marked something down. "Somebody bets." "I call." "You chust call?"

"OK, I fold."

The questions continued, each with the same result.

"Dis is der lowest score I haf effer seen," Dr. Krock moaned, shaking his head in dismay. Drastic measures are called for, so I vill force you to act like der man by giffing you der tough assignments." He thought for a moment. "Vot bothers you der most about playing in der casinos?"

"Well, nobody seems to speak English anymore in the places around here. I never know what anyone is saying during a hand."

"Dot iss der first assignment. As soon as anyvun talks mit der jibber-jabber, you call der floorman und complain, you hear?"

I didn't like the idea of causing trouble, but I agreed.

The next week I returned for my second session, and Krock asked if I had successfully completed my assignment.

"I tried," I insisted, "but it didn't do any good."

"Vy not?" Dr. Krock asked sternly.

"The floorman didn't speak English either."

Dr. Krock smacked his forehead. "Dis is even vorse den I feared. Hokay, ve try again. How much do you get for dose shtupid articles you write for der Card Player?

"Uh ... $15 a column. That's almost 2 cents a word, you know."

"Hoo, boy! Vot do you do mit all dot money? Und ven vas der last time you got der raise?"

I counted on my fingers. "Nine years ago."

"Hokay. Your next assignment iss to demand der raise."

On the next visit Dr. Krock asked for a report. "Well, I told them I was America's foremost gaming humorist, the mainstay of the magazine, the column most readers turned to first, and that if I didn't get a substantial raise I would accept an offer to write for another poker magazine."

"Dot's my boy! Did you get it?"

"Not exactly. They explained that paper and printing costs were going up and that they weren't sure they could continue to pay me as much as they had been, so ..."

"So ...?" Dr. Krock prompted me.

"So ... I settled for $14 a column."

The eminent poker psychologist wiped a tear from his eye. "Vy, vy, didn't I chust become a plumber?" he lamented. "Hokay, I gif you der vun last chance to redeem yourself." He thought hard. "Who iss der person who scares you der most?"

That was easy. It was "Super Mario" Esquerra. "

Goot. I vant you to go und pick der fight mit dis man."

I blanched; my life passed before my eyes.

Well, as the line goes, "A coward dies a thousand deaths; a brave man dies but once." I resolved to pick that fight and die, if need be, to prove that I could be a man. A week later I was back and, to Dr. Krock's astonishment, still in one piece. "Vot happened?" he demanded. "Well, I asked Mario if it was true that he wore a girdle. He got real mad and charged at me, but I stopped him dead in his tracks with the threat of extreme physical violence." Dr. Krock rubbed his hands in glee. "You mean you threatened to beat him up?" "No, I threatened to have Barbara beat him up." Well, it kind of went downhill from there, but I hung in and eventually got my graduation diploma from Dr. Krock. He must have made a mistake, though, because it wasn't a certificate for Assertiveness Training. It was from Dog Obedience School.