The Love Affair of Poker

by Terry Broxson

This story is not a contest entry. I wanted to call attention to a contest I created called, The Poker Game. I hope some of you creative folks on FanStory will enter.

Kenny Rogers had a song and a movie about The Gambler. You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away and know when to run. Here are a few personal vignettes about poker games.

***

I created a contest called The Poker Game in honor of my friend and fellow fanstorian Ric Myworld. He told me he would be in Vegas for a couple of weeks at the World Series of Poker.

"You're playing in the World Series of Poker?" I asked with all the admiration and wonder an old man's voice could muster.

"Oh, hell no. I'll be playing in a few satellite tournaments and some private games."

"So you gonna be one those 'high rollers'?"

"Only if I win."

I didn't ask my real question. I didn't figure he knew where I might find any nickel, dime, quarter game with three bump limits. Me being a low roller and all. Didn't want to embarrass myself.

***

After dinner, with an after-dinner drink in our hands, I asked her if she would like to play cards.

With a smile that raised an eyebrow. "What game did you have in mind?"

"I thought maybe strip poker."

"Umm, I think that would take too long. Let's say we both won. Follow me."

Kenny Rogers was right. You got to know when to walk away—especially with the other winner.

***

On a Tuesday afternoon in 1983, I was seated at a table on the second floor of a new medical office building owned by the two doctors who employed me. The doctor's practice (Orthopedics) had the third floor of the three-story building. A physical therapy practice took up the entire first floor, but the second floor had no tenant.

The inability to lease the second floor caused the doctors much financial distress. That particular afternoon I had been joined by two fellas, Phil and Roger. I had served as one of the managers for the doctor's business affairs for two years. I had known Phil since college. I also knew Roger and Phil from our days working for the same health agency. Both men were now partners in the diabetes treatment business.

Phil, Roger, and I were playing Texas Hold 'Em when Steve, one of the two doctors I worked for, came in unexpectedly and looked at the money on the table. I thought he looked like a deer in headlights, He didn't know which way to jump. So he mumbled a few words and left. Certainly not a characteristic of his that he ever displayed. His modus operandi included being in your face on something he disliked or didn't understand.

Phil and Roger looked at me. Phil said, "Do you want to keep playing?"

"Might as well. It's not gonna get any worse."

An hour later, I went up to Steve's private office. Before I said a word, Steve asked, "What the hell was that about!"

"This."

I handed him a signed lease for the entire second floor with a term of five years. An $18,000 check was attached for the first month's rent.

The following day Steve told me to go to the Mercedes dealership and pick out the color of my newly leased company car.

Kenny was right again. You got to know when to hold 'em.

***

In 1980 the managers of the health agency I worked for had a management retreat on South Padre Island, Texas. We did work all day, but at 5 PM, the work day ended. Food and drinks would follow, and so would poker. Honestly, we were low rollers—nickel, dime, quarter. We all worked for a charity. None of us could afford to lose anything.

But as the hours went by and drinks flowed. Some crazy rules would develop. Seven card stud deuces wild deuces up match the pot. The high spade in the hole wins half the pot...and on and on.

A showdown hand came between my good friends, Sam and Don. Don's ability at poker at best could only be described as poor. Sam could play, but not on this hand. He lost. He owed Don $300.

Don and his wife had two kids. Sam and Helen had four. In 1980, $300 could buy a lot of food and shoes.

Sam said, "I don't have $300 with me, but I'll give you a check, and I assure you it is good. But I don't want anyone telling Helen I lost $300 playing poker."

We were all friends and co-workers. We knew the check would be good.

Don replied, "Sam, I know the check is good, and I wouldn't tell Helen, and trust me, I don't want Sarah to know I could've lost $300."

Everybody went home from the retreat. Don had two things on his mind. He was doing his best not to smile all the way back to Austin and trying to think of a way to keep his windfall a secret from Sarah.

Sam seemed in deep thought, trying to devise a good lie he could tell Helen.

A week later, l got a request to meet with Don and Sam.

"Terry, we got a problem. We need you to arbitrate."

"Okay, what is it?"

Don sighed, "It's like this. When I got home from the retreat, Sarah took my clothes and put them in the washing machine, and my jeans had my wallet in them. Sam's check was in my wallet. It's ruined."

"Okay, Sam, give him a new check."

"Well, it's not that easy. Suppose I gave him cash, and Sarah ruined it. Would I have to give him more cash? Is it my fault he didn't take care of it?"

"Sam, I see your point about the cash, but it was a check."

Don says, "To make it worse, Sarah is mad at me for playing a poker game with a $300 pot, and it's my fault for not taking my wallet out of my jeans before she put them in the washing machine."

"Fellas, there is one thing we can all agree on. It's Sarah's fault for not checking your jeans."

Sagaciouly, we all nodded in agreement.

Kenny Roger was right again. Don should have run.

Sam did not give Don another check.

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