Jim Boyd: 'Mr. Foxwoods,' aka 'The Comeback Kid'

The hotel room was quaint, one of the original shoebox rooms in the ancient east wing of Binion's Horseshoe in Downtown Las Vegas. Furnished with a turn-of-the-century carved oak dresser and a tall armoire for hanging clothes, ornate wallpaper, and a pillbox of a bathroom, the setting led me to imagine that Matt Dillon would soon be dropping by to visit Miss Kitty. Instead, a jovial and astute professional poker player resembling one of those Texas road gamblers the sheriff was always rousting on Gunsmoke sat in front of me firing off clever repartee from his arsenal of experience shooting it out in green-felt duels at the World Series of Poker.

Jim Boyd, a modern-day road gambler and a tournament specialist par excellence, is from Martinsburg, West Virginia, about 10 minutes away from Harper's Ferry. "That's where John Brown led the uprising during the Civil War, and where they hung him," Boyd affirmed. The well-liked poker pro first came to Las Vegas in 1983 and was playing in the Series for his 19th straight year when I tracked him down for one of the most entertaining interviews I've done to date.

Jim Boyd: I love Las Vegas. After I turned professional in 1989, I'd come here and stay for about six months a year. I used to run a little home game, but basically I'm on the road playing poker most of the time.

Dana Smith: Did you used to have a day job?

JB: Yes, from 1978 to 1989, I was a suit-and-tie man, an advertising account executive for a newspaper in West Virginia. I was studying to be a CPA, but I couldn't stand that restricted lifestyle, so I quit college and went into advertising sales. Eventually, I got burned out and turned to poker for my living. In fact, I've been gambling since I was 8 years old. My cousins and I gambled for pennies at my grandmother's house, and whoever won the money bought a Dr. Pepper and we put some peanuts in it. When I was about 15 years old, I started going to poker games with my dad. He owns 55 acres in the mountains of West Virginia, and he cut off three acres for me. When I made my first big hit in Vegas, instead of blowing the money like a lot of gamblers do, I built a house for my wife, Mary, and me. I was broke again, but at least we had a home. You see all those little notes tacked on the wall?

DS: You mean those post-its hanging all over your room?

JB: Yeah. Mary packs my bags for me and sticks a ton of notes in the pockets of my pants so that every morning I can just reach in my pocket for a word of encouragement, and that puts a smile on my face. Let me read you one of them: "Quit messin' around and show 'em how the big boys play!" A couple of them are X-rated: "You make me feel good all over – get home quick!" Here's another one: "Bring home the money, honey!" For many years, Mary was a full-time gambler's wife and stay-at-home mother to our sons, John and David. These days she works four days a week as a salesperson and has a passion for Longaberger collectible baskets – we have baskets for every occasion.

DS: I imagine that she would like you to fill them all up with the money you've won from poker, right?

JB: Absolutely! But right now it's the "change" basket that's full.

DS: What was your highest finish at the World Series?

JB: I've made seven final tables, and have three fourths, two fifths, a seventh, and a ninth. I've made some money, but I haven't won a bracelet yet. I took fourth in a seven-card stud tournament in 1992 at the Series in a five-way split. A week later I placed fourth in limit Omaha, which Tom McEvoy won.

DS: What about the other tournaments that you play?

JB: The high point of my tournament career came when I won the best all-around player title at the Queens Classic in 1994. Halfway through the tournament, I had only $700 in my pocket because I had been sure, as I always do, to pay all of my family's bills before I flew to Vegas, and I didn't have much left to gamble with. I played some satellites and won a seat for the $5,000 main event. Then I placed 12th in the pot-limit Omaha tournament, but it paid only nine spots, so Jack McClelland joked, "Well, Jim, you won six points," and laughed. "Well, Jack, I've won my seat and I've got $400 in my pocket, but I've got 11 days to go," I said, "so if you want to find me, just look for me in the $1-$4 game at the Fremont."

Luckily, I entered a $115 buy-in satellite for the $1,000 limit hold'em event and won it. At the tournament, it got down to Men Nguyen, Roy Dudley, and me, and we chopped it. The next day I was very tired, but I won the $1,000 seven-card stud event. I hadn't planned to play it because I was exhausted, but I had won a satellite seat that morning with my eyes propped open with toothpicks. The next night I took fifth in the $1,000 buy-in pot-limit hold'em event.

DS: Fortunes can change fast in poker, can't they?

JB: I'll say. Going into the final tournament that counted toward points, the $300 no-limit hold'em event, Men Nguyen had the lead, but I had a lot of support from guys rooting for the hillbilly from West Virginia. I had to take at least 14th place to tie Men in the points battle. Three hours into the tournament, I had $185 sitting in front of me – things weren't looking too good. Luckily, I won a few pots to hang on. When it got down to 15 of us, the antes were $75 and the blinds were $300-$600. I'm in the big blind with my $675 in the pot and $300 left, enough to cover the ante but not the small blind coming up next. Everybody folds and it gets around to Joe Petro, and he raises $2,400 on the button. The small blind folds. I have the J 10 and don't want to play this hand – I'm keeping my eye on the other table, hoping somebody gets knocked out – so I put the stall on. But nobody goes out at the other table, so now the decision's up to me. Facing a big raise, I don't like my J-10, but I've gotta play it and pray that I hit the flop. I call all in. The board comes 8-7-7-3-2. Disgusted, I turn my hand up and get ready to leave. "That's good," Joe says. He told me later that he had a J-9 suited and was just trying to pick up the blinds. And Men's jumping about five feet in the air yelling, "Jack high won that pot?!"

I went on to win 13th place and the best all-around player award. It was the thrill of my life. To show you what a great player Men is, he won the best all-around honors the following year. The Four Queens gave me a ring, and the money. Only six players have won those rings: Vince Burgio, Ray Rumler, Mike Sexton, Men Nguyen, Brent Carter, and I. They've all won bracelets, so I'm in some pretty exclusive company.

DS: You did something earlier this year that caught Jeff Shulman's eye.

JB: Oh, do you mean "The Hand of the Week" that I wrote for Phil Hellmuth? That was about a supersatellite in which it got down to Tony Ma, Jim Bucci, a guy from New York City, and me. The question was whether to play a pair of jacks when you have a bunch of chips and have to move up only one spot to win a seat. I say that you shouldn't and Phil says that you should. At first it looks cut-and-dried that you should play the jacks, but it's very debatable.

DS: Can we look forward to reading some more articles of yours?

JB: I wouldn't want to write anything on tactical play, but I wouldn't mind telling some stories about some things that happened in the old-time poker games. For example, back in 1967 when I was 16 years old, my dad owned a nightclub. The club was downstairs and our apartment was upstairs. A semifamous singer named Ronny Dove was performing, and Ronny was a gambler. In between sets, he had a 20-minute break, and my dad played no-limit five-card stud with him upstairs on the kitchen table, trying to win the money back that he had paid Ronny for doing the gig. The place was packed, and my dad had to leave to break up a fight. "Here, Son," he told me, "play this hand for me." I bet with an ace in the hole and a queen up, and Ronny called. I didn't catch anything on third street and neither did he, so I bet again and he called. On the end he caught a king and bet $700, everything he had in front of him. I thought and thought, and right about the time that I said "I call," my father walked back into the room. "What are you doing?!" he yelled. Looking confidently at me, Ronny said, "King." I asked, "How many?" He answered, "King!" And I scooped in the pot with my ace high. Right then and there, I knew that I had an instinct for poker.

DS: But it wasn't until 1989 when you got burned out in your day job that you decided to play poker professionally.

JB: Yes. Our boys were only 3 and 5 years old then, so it was kinda risky, but Mary said, "If that's what you wanna do, I'm behind you all the way." I went to the World Series of Poker and made my first final table in a no-limit hold'em event, and got an opportunity to play with Stu Ungar, which was a thrill. I barely sneaked into the money, but I came home with a $40,000 win. "Boy, this is for me!" I thought.

DS: Then what?

JB: Over the next two years, I bet horses and shot craps, and blew all the money. So, there I was with two young kids and I was dead broke.

DS: How did you work your way out of the trap?

JB: I woke myself up by saying, "Hey, I've got a wife and two young kids, and they don't want me betting horses and shooting craps. I'm a poker player, and I'd better be a darn good one, because now I'm gonna have it to put to the test." So, I turned to playing $2-$4 poker, making just enough money to pay the bills. I played a lot of poker in the firehouses in Washington, DC, and in Maryland, where they had "Vegas Nights" with $15-$30 stud and $10-$20 hold'em.

DS: So, you got things turned around.

JB: Yes, and in '92 I came back to Vegas and made two final tables and bought the house. Of course, 1994 was a big year for me, not only at the Queens but at Foxwoods, where I also won a big tournament. I love Foxwoods – Mike Ward, Kathy Raymond, and Lena Boles are just terrific, and I've won more tournaments there than anybody else. In fact, they call me "Mr. Foxwoods." One year when I'm playing there I'm rooming with Bill Seymour, and I'm not doing anything in the tournaments. The last event is $100 seven-card stud with $100 rebuys. I play all night and I've got $40 in my pocket. The tournament starts at noon, so I ask Bill to loan me $80 so I can get into the tournament. Fifteen minutes into it, I go broke. Luckily, Bill is sitting at a table next to me and asks, "You want a rebuy?" Just as the rebuy period ends, I go broke again. "You want another one?" he asks. How could I refuse? I end up chopping the tournament when it gets to three-way action and wind up with $13,000, which was a ton of money at the time. We play until 7 o'clock in the morning when the sun is coming up and the birds are chirping, so I get only about two hours of sleep before the freeroll event at noon. I get to the final table and I'm one of the chip leaders with eight of us left to play for the $25,000 first-place money. Then they make me an offer I can't resist: "We'll give you $17,000 and split up the rest of it seven ways." Can you believe that – an eight-way deal?! So, I end up going from having $40 in my pocket to winning $30,000. They call me "The Comeback Kid," you know, and I'd better come back fast before I leave Vegas this time, because I'm so far back.

DS: You've made other impressive comebacks, too. How do you do it?

JB: I've been down to the cloth three times when lightning struck and bailed me out. I think that the tougher things get, the better I play. A lot of people crumble when their backs are to the wall, but that's when I get stronger.

DS: Is it tougher to play the huge fields in the World Series tournaments these days?

JB: Sure, it's a lot more competitive now, and people play a lot better than they used to. A couple of old-timers told me that in the old days, there might be 300 players in a World Series tournament, and 250 of them had no shot at it. Now, if there are 300 entrants, 250 of them have a shot and 50 don't.

DS: How do young players learn to play so well so fast?

JB: I think a lot of it has to do with computers, and everybody is free with their knowledge these days. When I first came to Vegas in '83, I played no-limit and pot-limit with all the Texans, and I enjoyed it because they were all gentlemen. They'd lose a big pot against a two-outer and say, "Nice hand." I patterned myself after them because I liked the way that they carried themselves. My all-time hero is Bobby Baldwin. Anyway, I would ask the older guys, "How does this hand measure up against that hand?" and sometimes they would help me. Today, the younger guys just go to the computer, open up Mike Caro's "Poker Probe," hit a button, and say, "OK, it's 53.2 percent."

DS: Nolan Dalla wrote an article about you, describing you as a satellite specialist. Why do you play so many satellites?

JB: I always go for the cheap seat, because I just don't like putting out the big money. I have to earn my way into an event. If a tournament costs $1,500 to enter, for example, I want to win at least $1,000 in satellite chips so that I don't have to take any more than $500 out of my pocket for it. "Jimmy, you've just won $100,000 in a tournament, so why are you playing satellites?" people ask.

"Well, $90,000 goes to my wife and kids," I answer. I take great pride in my family – they always come first with me.

DS: Is there anything special that you want to say in closing?

JB: Well, yes, I have made a few notes (chuckling). I take pride in having been a teacher to some pretty good players over the years. Bill Seymour, Craig DiSalvo, Greg Pappas, and Boris Alic, who's an up-and-comer, have been students of mine. I'm always taking notes, and when we room together, we analyze hands and discuss how to play better poker.

I also want to mention a few of the great people I've met through poker – some of the friendships that I've made are priceless. Ron and Teresa McMillan, Harry and Jeri Thomas, and Max and Maria Stern are some of the nicest couples I've ever met. Back in 1991 at the Four Queens, I was broke. I'm stubborn, and I don't like asking folks for money; if I go broke, I go home. I didn't know Ron well back then, but we'd played and laughed and downed a few beers together. I'm sitting on the rail and he comes over and asks, "Jim, why aren't you playing?"

"I have two days to wait for my flight out, and I'm so broke that I don't even have enough money to change my airline ticket."

"Well, do you need some money?"

"Ron, you don't even know me," I answered.

"Yeah, but I know you're honorable, I can sense it. You want $2,000?" I'd come to town with only a thousand in my pocket, so that seemed like a huge offer to me. I refused the two grand and he said, "Well, how 'bout a thousand?" Again, I said no. "How 'bout $500?" he pressed. I took it, promising him that I'd pay him when I got home. When I sent him the check, he wrote me a note and enclosed some McDonald's coupons for the kids. It's generosity like Ron's, people who give me a helping hand even when I don't ask, that I'll always remember.

DS: It's all about personal integrity, isn't it?

JB: One thing that I learned from Doyle Brunson's book is that a poker player might lose his money, but if he loses his integrity, he loses everything, so I've always maintained high standards for myself.

DS: How do you weather the economic storms in poker?

JB: Well, because I have X number of bills to pay every month, I put that money away first, and my family and friends have helped me out from time to time. I make it a point to pay them on time or early. I've been on a downslide here lately, but …

DS: … but you're a good poker player and you know that you'll make another comeback, right?

JB: Yes. I know that I will get back to my winning ways. I've been making my living at poker for 12 years now, and I've always made it – I never give up. Luckily, I have enough talent to be successful at the $15-$30 to $50-$100 stakes. I've played higher, but money means too much to me to gamble real high. I think that in those huge games where they're playing $15,000-$30,000 limits, it's ego that's driving a lot of those people to play so big. I've always had confidence, but I never let my ego get to the point that I think I'm the superstar, because I know that ego has destroyed many a poker career. If I can make a nice living and get back home to West Virginia for the summer to do a little fishing and barbecue some hard-shell crabs in the backyard with my family, I'm happy.