David Levien

Listen, here's the thing. If you can't spot the sucker in your first half hour at the table, then you ARE the sucker.

In "Confessions of a Winning Poker Player," Jack King said, "Few players recall big pots they have won, strange as it seems, but every player can remember with remarkable accuracy the outstanding tough beats of his career." It seems true to me, cause walking in here, I can hardly remember how I built my bankroll, but I can't stop thinking of how I lost it.

If you had it to do all over again, knowing what would happen, would you make the same choice?

You can shear a sheep many times, but skin him only once.

I never told anybody this, about eight nine months ago, I'm at the Taj it's late and I see Johnny Chan walk in and he goes and sits in the three hundred six hundred section and the whole place stops and everybody puts an eye on him, after a while there wasn't a crap going on because all the high rollers are over there watching and some of them playing but they're giving their money to him and say "oh", I played with the world champion", you know what I did?

Rags, I had nothing, but he raised and I decided I don't care about the money, I'm just going to out play the guy, I'm going to out play this guy, this hand, I'll re-raise

Yeah, he comes back over the top at me trying bully me like I'm some tourist, I hesitate for like two seconds then I'll re-raise and he makes a move to his checks and he looks at me, check his cards and looks at me again, and he mucked it, I took it down

They're trying to goad me, trying to own me. But this isn't a gunfight. It's not about pride or ego. It's only about money. I can leave now, even with Grama and KGB... and halfway to paying Petrovsky back. That's the safe play. I told Worm you can't lose what you don't put in the middle. But you can't win much either.

I've often seen these people, these squares at the table, short stack and long odds against them. All their outs gone. One last card in the deck that can help them. I used to wonder how they could let themselves get into such bad shape, and how the hell they thought they could turn it around.

Why do you think the same five guys make it to the final table of the World Series of Poker EVERY YEAR? What, are they the luckiest guys in Las Vegas? It's a skill game Jo.

You were lookin' for that third three, but you forgot that Professor Green folded on Fourth Street and now you're representing that you have it. The DA made his two pair, but he knows they're no good. Judge Kaplan was trying to squeeze out a diamond flush but he came up short and Mr. Eisen is futilely hoping that his queens are going to stand up. So like I said, the Dean's bet is $20.

You were lookin' for that third three, but you forgot that Professor Green folded on Fourth Street and now you're representing that you have it. The DA made his two pair, but he knows they're no good. Judge Kaplan was trying to squeeze out a diamond flush but he came up short and Mr. Eisen is futilely hoping that his queens are going to stand up. So like I said, the Dean's bet is $20.

Worm's dad did the grounds, when he wasn't too fucking drunk, that's when we did them, of course the grounds weren't all we did, Worm put us into a scam a day on all the young aristocrats we went to school with, selling them dime bags of Oregano, nunchakus, or fire crackers from Chinatown, kept us in lunch money until the time we went from more than just pocket change and got caught we had the starting five take a dive against Friends Academy the point guard snapped and gave Worm up, they hauled him before the school board and offered him a deal " tell us who else was involved and we'll go easy on you" Worm didn't say a fucking word and got himself expelled, I stayed in school and graduated, not many friends can stand up for a friend like that.

I want him to think that I am pondering a call, but all I'm really thinkin about it Vegas and the fuckin' Mirage.

Five grand a week and you keep the juice going we want what you want we want to square this thing but three days is impossible no one's saying "your not the man", just think of it as a business decision, he just got out let's put him on a plan

I turned my ten grand into just over sixty, paid fifteen to Grama, six went back to the Chesterfield, and as for Worm, I figure we're even and after the ten going back to the professor I'm back where I started: "three stacks of high society"

Doyle Brunson says" the key to no limit is to put a man to a decision for all his chips" Teddy's just did it his representing aces the only hand better than my cowboys I can't call and just give him a chance to catch I can only fold if I believe him in a heads up match your stack is almost as important as the quality of your cards I chopped one of his legs off in the first hand now all I have to do is lean on him until he falls over   the rule is this: if you spot a man's tell, you don't say a fucking word I finally spotted KGB's and usually I'd let him chewing those Oreos until he was dead broke but I don't have that kind of time I've only got until morning not even Teddy KGB is immune to getting a little rattled.

The amazing thing is, in this collection of great legal minds there isn't a single real card player.

I don't know if I'm going to bring my legal career to a crashing halt before it even starts but sometimes I just can't help myself.

I tell you it's hard leaving that game, an open invitation to lay with those lames but I'm retired, and in my playing days, it'd be pretty sweet to have anyone of them owing me favors. The truth is I could always find games though, easy games, tough games, straight games, crooked games, home games. I can turn this truck onto the Jersey Turnpike and be at the Taj Mahal casino in two hours, but I've made promises I'm just a law student now.

I thought so too now I know what real work is, speaking of which are you going to get a job? Are you going to look? Or you're just going back to printing those credit cards? Are you going away again?

I want you to think long term, be smart every place in Manhattan they all keep books if you get listed as a "mechanic" not only you're going to get the shit kicked out of you you're not going to get a game anywhere in New York, it's just stupid it's bad business.

I know you're the guy that taught me all the angles but I'm not the one with my nose open right now, I'm going to preach to you, those two guys in there they're not "rabbits" ,Roman and Maurice they're Russian outfit guys, not as bad as KGB but you don't want to be fucking around with those guys.

You still got time, go back in there and lose their money back to them, and make it look good.

The game in question is no limit Texas hold'em minimum buy in twenty five thousand dollars a game like this doesn't come around often outside the casinos, the stakes attract rich flounders and they in turn attract the sharks, each player is dealt two cards face down then five cards are dealt face up these are known as community cards everyone can use to make the best five card hand, the key to the game is playing the man, not the cards, there's no other game in which fortunes can change so much from hand to hand, a brilliant player can get a strong hand, crack go on tilt and lose his mind along with every chip in front of him, this is why The World Series of Poker is decided on a no limit hold'em table, pro's won't play no limit they can't handle the swings but there are others like Doyle Brunson consider no limit the only pure game left, "Like Papa Wallenda said, "Life is on the wire, the rest is just waiting."

The poker room at The Mirage in Vegas is the center of the poker universe. Doyle Brunson, Johnny Chan, Phil Hellmuth the legends consider it their office, every couple of days a new millionaire shows up wanting to beat a world champion. Usually they go home with nothing but a story, down here the millionaires are scarce or they're playing craps, there's still plenty of money there for the taking, in fact you can't game in the city because the New York rounders are taking out the tourists here.

you don't hear much about guys who take their shot and miss, I'll tell you what happens to them: they end up humping crappy jobs on grave yard shifts, trying to figure out how they came up short. I had an picture in my head of me sitting at the big table Doyle sitting to my left Amarillo Slim to my right, playing in The World Series Of Poker and I let that vision blind me at the table against KGB now the closest I get to Vegas is West New York, driving down this lousy route from Knish to rounders who forgot the cardinal fucking rule: always leave yourself out.

I met Worm at Dwight-Englewood Preparatory Acamdemy in New Jersey, we were only two kids attending that didn't have a trust fund, my father's office was there,it said "custodian" on the door, that's why they took me.

these two have no idea what they're about to walk into, down here to have a good time they figure, "why not give poker a try? after all how different could it be from the home games they've played their whole lives?" All the luck in the world isn't going to change things for these guys, they're simply over matched, we're not playing together but then again we're not playing against each other, they wear their "tells" like signs around their necks, facial tics, nervous fingers the hand over the mouth, the way a cigarette is smoked, little unconscious gestures that reveal the cards in their hands. We catch everything if a fish acts strong he's bluffing, if he acts weak his got a hand, it's that simple.

I know all the reasons I shouldn't be here: sometimes reasons don't matter, no one's stood up for Worm his been kicked around his whole life from his father on down, maybe his not the same guy he was when he went away but I can't give up on him that easily, I'm all his got

Generally the rule is: the nicer the guy, the poorer the card player, these guys despite being cops are real sweet hearts. I'm right on schedule, I'm up forty two hundred. The morning can't get here soon enough.

Fold or hang tough, fold or raise the bet. These are decisions you make at the table, sometimes the odds are stacked so clear there's only one way to play it other times like holding a small pair against two over cards six to five or even money, either way then it's all about feel what's in your guts

Joey Knish is a New York legend his been a "rounder", earning his living at cards since he was 19 years old, he's as close to a friend in this place, but tonight I don't want to see him.he doesn't look like much but KGB is connected to all the way to the top of the Russian mob, he's the one guy you dont' want to fuck with. But if you're looking for high stakes, this is the only place in town, they all know me as a "small timer", but that's about to change.

Here's the beauty of this game: I just got top two pair on the flop and I want to keep him in the hand. Against your average guy, I'd set a "bear trap", hardly bet at all, let him walk into it. But KGB's too smart for that. So, what I've got to do is over bet the pot,make it look like I'm trying to buy it.

Yeah, I know I said that, but You know what I meant. I meant that you should use your head. You know, the way you calculate odds on the spot, the way you "read" people. I didn't mean it as a way to con your way into a summer job con? I was "networking".

Worm and I into our old rhythm like Clyde Frazier and Pearl Monroe, we "bring out" all the "old school" tricks, stuff we'd never play in the city, signaling, chip placing, trapping, we even use the old "best hand" play, I can probably crack the game just as quickly "straight up", but there's no risk in this room. Now, some people might "look down" on worm's mechanics, call it "immoral", but as Canada Bill Jones, said "It's immoral to let a sucker keep his money"

Worm really has become an artist, too. Discard culls, pickup culls, overhand run ups, the Double Duke: his technique is flawless, but his judgement is a little off, a few times, I have to fold the case hand just so it won't be obvious. Still, he plays the part of a loser to perfection

just walking in here makes me queasy, the brick walls, the fucking mopes at the table, the musty smell, I feel like Buckner walking back into Shea, but what choice do I have?

You think your average juror is King Solomon? No, he's a roofer with a mortgage. He wants to go home and sit in his Barcalounger and let the cable TV wash over him. And this man doesn't give a single, solitary droplet of shit about truth, justice or your American way.

Gentlemen, trials are too important to be left up to juries.

..the thing of it is, I don't give a shit. What's more… I never have.

Somebody add "class-clown" to Mr. Easter's ever expanding resume.

What do you hope to achieve if you win? You gonna bring Jacob Wood back to life? No. You just ensure that his wife goes to the cemetery in a better car, and that the heel that she snaps on the way to the graveside belongs to a $1,200 shoe. You get your name in the paper. But Jacob Wood and all the other gun violence victims remain rotting in their crypts.

"Easter." Correct... I didn't see you coming. Ovbiously I, uh, underestimated you. And as a rule, I don't do that. Make damn sure... you don't underestimate me.