Recently, I found myself at a poker tournament, retelling a story that I
have told many times since the actual incident occurred. It was in the
beginning stages of the tournament when everyone was chatting and
being very amiable. I really didn’t even remember retelling the story until
one of the players at the table, Brian Niekerk, an ex-college football
player from Montana, e-mailed me that he had retold my story to a few of
his poker-playing friends. He said they all had gotten such a bang out of
it that he thought I should include it in one of my future columns.
So this is the column in which I will retell the story. The incident occurred
several years ago when they were constructing the Fremont Street
Experience. Construction of the Fremont Street Experience was an effort
to bring tourists to the Downtown Las Vegas area. Downtown had
become dirty, run-down, and unsafe. The whole idea was to construct an
unusual visual attraction while at the same time cleaning up the area
and driving out the many panhandlers and homeless people who had
almost taken over Downtown. They would, with the renovation, succeed
in achieving all of their objectives. They would add many more policemen
and make Downtown a nice, safe place, where tourists would enjoy
visiting without being bothered or scared.
But, unfortunately, during the time of the lengthy two or so years of
construction, the Downtown area degenerated to its lowest point. During
that time, one of the few things that wasn’t at a low point there was the
Four Queens Classic poker tournament. At that time, it was held in
January and was the second- or third-largest tournament on the circuit.
One night during the tournament, I got lucky and won an event and
quite a bit of money. When the smoke cleared, it was 2 a.m. or 3 a.m.,
and I got paid my $30,000 in prize money. I felt great, but I had one
small problem. Even though I was staying at the Four Queens, I didn’t
have a safe-deposit box there. I did, however, have one at the
Horseshoe, which I kept all year long. It saved me the time and trouble
of obtaining a safe-deposit box every time I came to play in a
tournament at the various casinos in Vegas.
So, not wanting to keep about $30,000 in my pocket, I knew I had to
walk across the street to the Horseshoe to put my money in my box.
Nowadays, that wouldn’t be a problem, but as I said, at that time there
were lots of undesirable characters inhabiting Downtown, and let’s just
say that there was little or no security.
I didn’t think much of it until I hit the street. I then realized how dark it
was, and with the street all torn up, there were no cars and virtually no
people, either. Furthermore, there was a light mist falling. I was tired and
thought, “Oh, what the hell. It’s only across the street — less than a
block away.” So, I started my short walk.
Just as I approached the corner, two big, tough-looking guys came
around the corner. Both were carrying beer bottles and appeared to be
very drunk and looking for trouble. As soon as they saw me, I knew what
was coming. I was sure that they were on the prowl for a handout or,
with no one else around, maybe something worse.
As I kept walking, they approached me as if they were going to block
what was left of the sidewalk.
When they got within a few feet of me, one of the guys asked, “Hey, you
got a couple of dollars?”
Now, I guess if I were an honest person, I would have said, “Well, yes.
As a matter a fact, I just won a big poker tournament and have about
$30,000 in my pocket. Will $2 be enough?” But instead, I stopped and
said in a very loud and forceful voice, “Hey, don’t - - - - with me! I just
lost $25 in there!” They both looked at me and parted like pussycats as I
walked right past them. A few steps later, I turned and loudly shouted
another expletive at them. It was a great spur-of-the-moment bluff. Oh, I
could have said, “I don’t have any money,” or given a dozen other
excuses, but I don’t think that any of them would have worked quite as
well as what I did. The bottom line was that these fellows wanted no
part of a guy who could be that angry about losing 25 bucks.
It had to be the best bluff of my life, because I am here today retelling
the story. If that bluff hadn’t worked, well …
For what it’s worth ...
have told many times since the actual incident occurred. It was in the
beginning stages of the tournament when everyone was chatting and
being very amiable. I really didn’t even remember retelling the story until
one of the players at the table, Brian Niekerk, an ex-college football
player from Montana, e-mailed me that he had retold my story to a few of
his poker-playing friends. He said they all had gotten such a bang out of
it that he thought I should include it in one of my future columns.
So this is the column in which I will retell the story. The incident occurred
several years ago when they were constructing the Fremont Street
Experience. Construction of the Fremont Street Experience was an effort
to bring tourists to the Downtown Las Vegas area. Downtown had
become dirty, run-down, and unsafe. The whole idea was to construct an
unusual visual attraction while at the same time cleaning up the area
and driving out the many panhandlers and homeless people who had
almost taken over Downtown. They would, with the renovation, succeed
in achieving all of their objectives. They would add many more policemen
and make Downtown a nice, safe place, where tourists would enjoy
visiting without being bothered or scared.
But, unfortunately, during the time of the lengthy two or so years of
construction, the Downtown area degenerated to its lowest point. During
that time, one of the few things that wasn’t at a low point there was the
Four Queens Classic poker tournament. At that time, it was held in
January and was the second- or third-largest tournament on the circuit.
One night during the tournament, I got lucky and won an event and
quite a bit of money. When the smoke cleared, it was 2 a.m. or 3 a.m.,
and I got paid my $30,000 in prize money. I felt great, but I had one
small problem. Even though I was staying at the Four Queens, I didn’t
have a safe-deposit box there. I did, however, have one at the
Horseshoe, which I kept all year long. It saved me the time and trouble
of obtaining a safe-deposit box every time I came to play in a
tournament at the various casinos in Vegas.
So, not wanting to keep about $30,000 in my pocket, I knew I had to
walk across the street to the Horseshoe to put my money in my box.
Nowadays, that wouldn’t be a problem, but as I said, at that time there
were lots of undesirable characters inhabiting Downtown, and let’s just
say that there was little or no security.
I didn’t think much of it until I hit the street. I then realized how dark it
was, and with the street all torn up, there were no cars and virtually no
people, either. Furthermore, there was a light mist falling. I was tired and
thought, “Oh, what the hell. It’s only across the street — less than a
block away.” So, I started my short walk.
Just as I approached the corner, two big, tough-looking guys came
around the corner. Both were carrying beer bottles and appeared to be
very drunk and looking for trouble. As soon as they saw me, I knew what
was coming. I was sure that they were on the prowl for a handout or,
with no one else around, maybe something worse.
As I kept walking, they approached me as if they were going to block
what was left of the sidewalk.
When they got within a few feet of me, one of the guys asked, “Hey, you
got a couple of dollars?”
Now, I guess if I were an honest person, I would have said, “Well, yes.
As a matter a fact, I just won a big poker tournament and have about
$30,000 in my pocket. Will $2 be enough?” But instead, I stopped and
said in a very loud and forceful voice, “Hey, don’t - - - - with me! I just
lost $25 in there!” They both looked at me and parted like pussycats as I
walked right past them. A few steps later, I turned and loudly shouted
another expletive at them. It was a great spur-of-the-moment bluff. Oh, I
could have said, “I don’t have any money,” or given a dozen other
excuses, but I don’t think that any of them would have worked quite as
well as what I did. The bottom line was that these fellows wanted no
part of a guy who could be that angry about losing 25 bucks.
It had to be the best bluff of my life, because I am here today retelling
the story. If that bluff hadn’t worked, well …
For what it’s worth ...
The Big Bluff - Quick thinking results in a great bluff
By Vince Burgio
By Vince Burgio
