Physician Heal Thyself

When one of the English tabloid newspaper's market share began to fall, they responded aggressively by appointing a new editor to liven things up. He began by ruthlessly firing several of the staff who he thought had gotten a bit stale. He wasn't without a sense of humour though, so when he decided the astrologer had to go he fired him in a letter that began, "As you will already know…"

This story reminds me of one of the funniest poker hands I've ever been involved in. It happened in the Aviation Club de France, just over ten years ago. Back then, believe it or not, there were usually only one or two games on week days in the club but they were usually great. The best customer was a complete fruitcake called "The Doctor", who may or may not have been the worst player in the world but was definitely the worst player in Paris. He wasn't really a doctor either, as far as I know but I was told he was making good money as a fortune-teller dealing mainly with foreign clients.

This was very good news indeed as when he was caked up he'd spend hours and hours pacing around the place chatting away to himself about God knows what. Every now and again, he'd get some inspiration and dart into either the gaming room or the poker room to have a bit of a punt. When he wasn't caked up, he'd do much the same thing, except for the punting.

Late one night, just as it looked as if the game was about to break up, The Doctor's system required him to empty out in the poker room so all plans to migrate to the bar were quickly knocked on the head. Things didn't go strictly according to plan because The Doctor began to win the odd pot and several hours later his title as the worst player in Paris was up for grabs.

Several lads were on complete tilt and sometimes, when The Doctor didn't win a pot, he finished second or third, which in itself meant he was in the form of his life. About 6 a.m. it all went off in style. I wasn't playing too good myself but I still knew what two aces looked like when I got them on the button whilst we were playing pot-limit hold'em. I didn't have too much trouble getting serious action before the flop and when it came down K-x-x rainbow, all four competitors managed to find an excuse to get the rest in.

The first guy had A-K, the next guy had 6-6 and was operating on the "you'll never know until you see all five" theory and The Doctor had a monster if you consider a 10-high backdoor club flush draw and a runner-runner straight draw a great hand (it was one of The Doctor's favourites).

The turn was the king of clubs and the river the six of clubs. I was the only one who was disappointed by this turn of events. The first guy proudly showed his set of kings, and the next guy very politely turned over his two sixes. The Doctor was practically wetting himself with the excitement of hitting the backdoor flush, though obviously a little disappointed he didn't hit the backdoor straight as well and failed to notice the significance of the two sixes beside him. We all knew he was a bad loser but we didn't know he was a bad winner as well because we'd never seen him win.

Thinking he'd won every penny on the table in one pot, he decided to make it as painful as possible by slow rolling us. If he did indeed have the best hand, it would have been one of the great slow-rolls because he kept looking at his hand, and then at the board and shaking his head before finally coming up with what he thought sounded like a very sincere apology before declaring that much to his surprise, he had a flush. It's the first and last time I've ever seen so many people who'd done their dough laughing as though they'd just had won the lottery.

The Doctor gave up all forms of gambling shortly after. It wasn't entirely voluntary but was brought about by his sudden death in his apartment one night. It was thought at the time that the 73 stab wounds he'd received were possibly the cause of death. Whilst some thought that slow-rollers deserve whatever they get, others took the more realistic view that we'd all been punished here and that couldn't be fair. I didn't get involved in the debate because I felt so sorry for all those who'd paid big money for his fortune telling services. After all, if he'd really been any good, why did he go home that night?