The Big Fish

"The Story You Are About To See Is True.

The Names Have Been Changed To Protect The Innocent."


It's summer 2007, and I've just finished my Junior year of high school.  I'm a fresh faced 17 year old who loves to play poker.  There was always a game to go to with a rotating cast of characters.

I'm going to try to recall a game that started off as a series of 20 dollar tournaments at the home of a veteran of the gulf war.  Eventually they turned into a high pressure, drug and alcohol infused cash games.

Jim (the host) is imposing in stature, but at heart he has the best intentions.  He is a heavy set man who always wore an army hat, and had  a scar across the left side of his face.  He kept his three purple hearts on display at his games.

And what a card player.  Jim never heard the adage about calling with a gutshot.  He also  never understood the concept of raising, he called whether he had nodda or the nuts.  As the game progressed it got worse.  Calling with high cards was a regular occurrence no matter the size of the pot or the board.  He only stopped throwing chips into pots when he picked up his pipe to burn some weed.

Up until that point I had never met a guy who was so liberal in passing around a pipe.  He never asked anybody to bring pot, just always had a big bag, or was in the process of acquiring one. 

Oh and I can't forget the infatuation with Jager.  This dude loved it, and loved sharing it.

His house was always a mess.  Cobwebs and dust were everywhere, and the tables we played on were disgustingly sticky and dirty.  The air always smelled of weed and spilled beer.

He had a different roommate moving in and out regularly.  Maybe it was due to his constant hosting of card games at all hours. 

At first, it was a mix of middle aged adults and high school students.  The tournaments were super fast structures, where blinds doubled every ten minutes.  The play was horrible, and I took second the first time I played there.

I was pretty weirded out though, and only came to the tournaments once in a while.  I wasn't a huge pot smoker, Jager wasn't all that appealing, and the whole environment just seemed a little off to me.

Late that summer, Jim began hosting 1-2 cash games with a $25 minimum and $100 max.  The games started off with six to eight players, and there was only one chip value.  All colors were worth one dollar.  Down the line he started using reds as 5 dollar chips, and greens as 25 dollar chips.

The games started off super shallow with me buying in for $50-70, a smattering of $25-75 buy ins, and Jim always buying in for $100.  Jim fueled the game with his loose passive "strategy."

The game eventually became just a few kids who liked to play cards and drink, Jim, and myself.  

Most of the other kids limp folded flops, I just nitted it up and played a TAG strategy.  A few puffs of the bowl kept me patient, and I never tried to bluff Jim.  He was there for me like an old friend, paying off all my bets.  He would pull out the benjamins with reckless abandon.

My first session I bought in for 50 and cashed out for 350!  As a 17 year old doofus I thought I was the king of poker.  I went home a little stoned and just stared at my winnings.  I laid in bed and could hardly sleep.

Jim tried to host a game three times a week.  Whether they were three handed or nine handed, you better believe I tried to be there.  I don't know where his unlimited cash came from, and I didn't care at all.  At the end of August I had more money than I thought I could spend.  

It wasn't all fun and games though.  Things would take a massive turn for the worst...