WSOP Stories - One Loose Player

Taoism teaches us that all changes in nature are manifestations of dynamic interplay between the polar opposites yin and yang (I’m no Chinese philosopher, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night). Clearly the world is full of polar opposites. Salt and sugar, Heaven and Hell, rich and poor, Jessica Alba and Rosie O’Donnell…

There are many opposites in the poker world as well. Winners and losers, passive and aggresive, and of course, tight and loose. Earlier I had written about the tightest player I have ever met, the guy who played one hand (and it was a royal flush!) in 90 minutes of Omaha 8. Now I’ll tell you about the yin to his yang, the loosest player I’ve ever met (and I know Dave!).

I was playing $5/10 NLHE, when an older gentleman sat down to my immediate right. We instantly struck up a conversation. I learned that his name was J.R., and that he’s a businessman from Atlanta who also runs a couple poker games on the side. The guy was pretty funny, and knew every corny joke in the book (and a few that never made the book). He was dressed all in black, with a cowboy hat, bolo tie, and a big silver belt buckle.

Within about 10 seconds of sitting down he was shouting for drinks at the top of his surprising healthy lungs. He spent the next three hours with a glass of white zinfandel in his left hand and a glass of red zinfandel in his right, all the while trying to play cards without spilling anything. While he was pretty loose to begin with, once the alcohol kicked in he was out of control. He bet or raised every pot (“How ya like that!?”), and when his opponent folded he would invariably turn over his hand to show a big bluff, berating his “tight-ass Jew” opponent.

Yep, it turns out that this guy was also about as racist as they come. He regaled in telling stories about his childhood, when he “banged every black slave girl” his father owned. I didn’t bother telling him that slavery was abolished before his grandfather was born, but let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me one bit to find that it took the news, oh, a few extra decades to find its way to his family’s farm. It dawned on me that this guy was Dave in 50 years!

At any rate, as the night wore on his insults became louder and more descriptive. “Tight-ass Jew” became “You tight-ass Kike bastard! A gnat couldn’t find his way into your ass with a flashlight and pick axe!” Most of the players at the table just kind of took it in stride and laughed along with him. It could be that some agreed with his viewpoint, but I think it’s mainly because he was paying them. The guy easily dropped $10k during the 3+ hours I sat next to him. Of course, I was card dead for much of that time, and (just my luck) when I finally pick up Q-Q and get all my chips in the middle, he turns over K-K and takes most of my stack. Oh well, even with that hit I still ended up well ahead during the time he was there.

It’s funny the effect that one player can have on a table. Once he got up and left, the table became quite tight (and yes, quite boring) almost immediately, and I got up and left soon afterward. Before he left, however, I told him about a friend (Nate) who just moved to Atlanta and had yet to find a good game. J.R. gave me his number to give to Nate, and I passed it along. I don’t know if the other players in his game are anything like him. If so, I suspect a move may be in order for me! I anticipate hearing from Nate about J.R.’s game. I imagine that Nate will be called every name in the book, but fully expect he will be well paid for the abuse!

See ya at the tables…
Rick