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Amateur Wins World Series of Poker
Luck Deals Amateur $2 Million
By CLYDE HABERMAN
You've got to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em. That may seem a tired old line, but it is a fundamental rule of poker. It also happens to serve pretty well in life, which Robert Varkonyi will tell you has a way of resembling what the poet-songwriter Leonard Cohen once called "the holy game of poker."
Mr. Varkonyi has a point. Even language is shaped by the game. You may care not a whit for gambling in any form. But try to get away without using a poker-based metaphor at least once before cashing in your chips.
Of course, you are more likely to think of poker as life if you are really good at the game. For now, no one can claim to be better than Mr. Varkonyi.
Over the holiday weekend, he and his wife, Olga, returned home to Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, a lot richer than they were before they left for Las Vegas. Mr. Varkonyi surprised quite a few people, and maybe also himself, by beating out 630 other players to capture the $2 million top prize in the annual competition known as the World Series of Poker.
In winning, he struck a blow for all those who feel themselves struggling at times to be taken seriously. In short, for almost all of us.
It was easy for other players to shrug him off as just another dreamer, this baldish 40-year-old systems analyst with glasses and an unassuming manner. He was, to be sure, an amateur. For several years, he had gone to Las Vegas to play, unsuccessfully, in "satellite games" that offer people a shot at scraping together the $10,000 entry fee for the World Series.
This year, he finally made it to the main event. Half the competitors, he figured, were "professional, full-time poker players who regard everyone else as dead money." As you may have guessed, to be called "dead money" is no honor. It means you don't stand a chance.
"I'm sure I was considered in the dead-money half," Mr. Varkonyi said. As things worked out, that worked to his advantage.
"I was completely unrecognized," he said, "and it gave me a huge edge because they had no idea of the level of play I was capable of. I was underestimated. It can be very, very helpful to have people underestimate you."
"Especially in poker," Olga Varkonyi chimed in.
It is not a bad thing in the real world, either. So much of life depends on figuring out what makes people tick, yourself as well as others. Poker is no different, as Anthony Holden said a dozen years ago in his book about the game, "Big Deal: A Year as a Professional Poker Player" (Viking).
"A man's character is stripped bare at the poker table," he wrote. "If the other players read him better than he does, he has only himself to blame. Unless he is both able and prepared to see himself as others do, flaws and all, he will be a loser in cards, as in life."
ABSOLUTELY right, said Mr. Varkonyi, who admits to not being as clever at reading people in real life as he is at the card table. "But I'm getting better," he added.
In poker, he said, "there is something called a `tell.' " That is a term for a facial expression or body movement that may reveal what someone thinks of his hand.
"Sometimes I have a tell on somebody," Mr. Varkonyi said. "I don't know what it is, but they seem scared and vulnerable. And there'll be people who have a tell on me. The problem is figuring out if it's a real tell or if the guy is acting. And sometimes you misread people. You think they're bluffing, and they have a great hand."
That happened to him at the start of the final World Series round. But he went on to triumph anyway, over an English hotshot named Julian Gardner, a pro at only 23.
Mr. Varkonyi won it all in a game called No-Limit Texas Hold 'Em. Each player was dealt two cards face down. This was followed by five cards put face up in the middle, for use by each player to form the best possible hand. The finish was dramatic. The last card, the 10 of clubs, gave Mr. Gardner a flush. But it also gave Mr. Varkonyi a full house, queens and 10's.
A full house beats a flush anywhere in the land. The crowd around him "went nuts," he said. "Went nuts."
"It was a classic `Cincinnati Kid' showdown," he said, referring to a 1960's Steve McQueen film about poker sharps. "It was the one card left in the deck that could simultaneously give him a flush and me a full house."
Mrs. Varkonyi added, "It was a miraculous hand, really."
So in the end, having some luck didn't hurt one bit.
Same as in real life.
By CLYDE HABERMAN
You've got to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em. That may seem a tired old line, but it is a fundamental rule of poker. It also happens to serve pretty well in life, which Robert Varkonyi will tell you has a way of resembling what the poet-songwriter Leonard Cohen once called "the holy game of poker."
Mr. Varkonyi has a point. Even language is shaped by the game. You may care not a whit for gambling in any form. But try to get away without using a poker-based metaphor at least once before cashing in your chips.
Of course, you are more likely to think of poker as life if you are really good at the game. For now, no one can claim to be better than Mr. Varkonyi.
Over the holiday weekend, he and his wife, Olga, returned home to Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, a lot richer than they were before they left for Las Vegas. Mr. Varkonyi surprised quite a few people, and maybe also himself, by beating out 630 other players to capture the $2 million top prize in the annual competition known as the World Series of Poker.
In winning, he struck a blow for all those who feel themselves struggling at times to be taken seriously. In short, for almost all of us.
It was easy for other players to shrug him off as just another dreamer, this baldish 40-year-old systems analyst with glasses and an unassuming manner. He was, to be sure, an amateur. For several years, he had gone to Las Vegas to play, unsuccessfully, in "satellite games" that offer people a shot at scraping together the $10,000 entry fee for the World Series.
This year, he finally made it to the main event. Half the competitors, he figured, were "professional, full-time poker players who regard everyone else as dead money." As you may have guessed, to be called "dead money" is no honor. It means you don't stand a chance.
"I'm sure I was considered in the dead-money half," Mr. Varkonyi said. As things worked out, that worked to his advantage.
"I was completely unrecognized," he said, "and it gave me a huge edge because they had no idea of the level of play I was capable of. I was underestimated. It can be very, very helpful to have people underestimate you."
"Especially in poker," Olga Varkonyi chimed in.
It is not a bad thing in the real world, either. So much of life depends on figuring out what makes people tick, yourself as well as others. Poker is no different, as Anthony Holden said a dozen years ago in his book about the game, "Big Deal: A Year as a Professional Poker Player" (Viking).
"A man's character is stripped bare at the poker table," he wrote. "If the other players read him better than he does, he has only himself to blame. Unless he is both able and prepared to see himself as others do, flaws and all, he will be a loser in cards, as in life."
ABSOLUTELY right, said Mr. Varkonyi, who admits to not being as clever at reading people in real life as he is at the card table. "But I'm getting better," he added.
In poker, he said, "there is something called a `tell.' " That is a term for a facial expression or body movement that may reveal what someone thinks of his hand.
"Sometimes I have a tell on somebody," Mr. Varkonyi said. "I don't know what it is, but they seem scared and vulnerable. And there'll be people who have a tell on me. The problem is figuring out if it's a real tell or if the guy is acting. And sometimes you misread people. You think they're bluffing, and they have a great hand."
That happened to him at the start of the final World Series round. But he went on to triumph anyway, over an English hotshot named Julian Gardner, a pro at only 23.
Mr. Varkonyi won it all in a game called No-Limit Texas Hold 'Em. Each player was dealt two cards face down. This was followed by five cards put face up in the middle, for use by each player to form the best possible hand. The finish was dramatic. The last card, the 10 of clubs, gave Mr. Gardner a flush. But it also gave Mr. Varkonyi a full house, queens and 10's.
A full house beats a flush anywhere in the land. The crowd around him "went nuts," he said. "Went nuts."
"It was a classic `Cincinnati Kid' showdown," he said, referring to a 1960's Steve McQueen film about poker sharps. "It was the one card left in the deck that could simultaneously give him a flush and me a full house."
Mrs. Varkonyi added, "It was a miraculous hand, really."
So in the end, having some luck didn't hurt one bit.
Same as in real life.