Nick on Brunson

When I was 10 years old I had a VIP tour of Liverpool football club. As someone who had their bedroom door painted Liverpool red when I was 5 this was the high point of my young life. Now this may shock and amaze you but I was a mouthy little bugger when I was young. But on being introduced to the stars of the team I barely uttered a word. Instead I just grinned and giggled and stared …. a lot.

Of course as I’ve matured I’ve put that kind of giggling of wide eyed stupor long behind me; with the exception of that bit in Transformers with the massive skating robot and any time I have to talk to a girl.

I spent a night doing just that this month when I played with the living legend of poker Doyle Brunson. I should explain that I hadn’t decided to sell several members of my family into slavery to raise the $100,000 to sit in his usual game. Instead I was at the monthly Century club tournament sponsored by Doyle’s room and hosted by Poker Player’s own Shelley Rubenstein. I knew that Doyle was going to be playing but obviously my chances of sitting anywhere near him were odds against. That was until my I realised my good friend Jacqui was in charge of the totally random seat draw (hey it pays to have an edge).

One undignified spell of discreet begging pleading and bribing 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 commitment not to.

Meeting one of your heroes is about as good as it gets in life – therefore I’m sure if they’re not everything you imagine it must be crushing. Fortunately Doyle 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 of the endless autograph and picture requests he got. 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 and has kept the great man in cowboy hats and massive ranches for years! 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 pound 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 process, too weird to be real. I expected my Mum to walk in dressed as an Alsatian – it was about as likely as what was actually happening.

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 QJ. The flop came 98x. An early player bet and Doyle raised. So here was a dilemma; correct poker decision making vs the chance to win a pot from Doyle and bore my grandchildren to death for years. It took me only a second to put my chips in with my gutshot and two overs; hey I had to have outs right?

Doyle flipped up Q9, 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 of spades filling my straight and winning me the pot. Doyle immediately shouted for chips and someone 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.

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 replace by a great read by me and a stunning bluff…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, my family should be worried.

I hope one day you get to meet your own idols and when you do that they’re everything you hope.

Originally published in Poker Player magazine.

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