Big Denny's Player of the Year

Early last year I had one of my usual intelligent conversations with Big Denny. "Hey, Maxey," he asked me, "ya got any pull wit' dat magazine ya writes for?"

"Oh, sure," I replied sarcastically, "Barry Shulman doesn't dare make a move without checking with me first."

"Dat's good, 'cause I got a favor ta ask."

I shook my head. "Look, Denny, Card Player will not put copies of the magazine back in your cardroom because you tried to sell them for $5 each. And if you're still trying to get a cover story, you can forget that, too. Saddam Hussein has a better chance of landing on the cover than you do."

"Nah, dat ain't it, Maxey. I'd like dem ta include some of my tournaments in dere player of da year rankin's and wondered how dey decide which ones ta use."

"Oh, it's very fair and impartial," I replied. "The more a casino advertises, the more points they assign to their tournaments."

"Oh, so dat's it," Big Denny said, scratching his head. "Den maybe I should advertise more."

"It isn't that simple, Denny. First you have to pay them for that ad you ran four years ago."

"Nuttin' doin'," Big Denny bristled. "Dey stuck dat ad on da same page wit' Oklahoma Johnny Hale's column, which I never found nobody what says dey ever reads it. How come dey didn't put it on da back page?"

"First," I replied, "The Bicycle Casino owns that position and I don't think they'd care to share it with you. Second, magazines don't accept 4-inch ads on the back page. And third, it was in such poor taste that you're lucky it ran at all."

"Hey, dat was a very artistic-type ad," Denny protested.

"Aunt Sophie holding her boobs, with a caption that read, 'Hold'em, anyone?' I don't think so."

"Dat was Michael Wiesenberg's idea. He's tryin' to get Aunt Sophie inta show business."

"Well, what she shows is her business, but some of our readers have weak stomachs."

Denny said we were getting off the subject, and demanded to know which of his tournaments might be included in Card Player's rankings. I asked which ones he had going.

"Well, dere's our 'Super Hold'em' tournament. Dat was a big success."

"You mean a big rip-off. The buy-in was $100 with a $15,000 prize pool and a maximum of 10 tables. It sounded like a great overlay, but when the players got there they discovered there were 20 players to a table."

"It was all explained in da fine print," Denny said defensively.

"Yeah, which you needed an electron microscope to read. What else do you have?"

"How about da 'Juniors' tournament?"

"The one with 14-year-old kids? I rather doubt it."

"Maybe dey could use da 'Dirty Wally Invitational.'"

"The one where you sent out 1,000 invitations, but only Dirty Wally showed up? Denny, be realistic. The only way you could get any of your tournaments included is if you ran your own Player of the Year promotion."

I had forgotten about our conversation, but a year later, Denny phoned me, very excited. "Hey, Maxey, ya know dat idea ya gave me? Well, I did it, and dey just had a big story in da local Barstow paper. Let me send it ta ya, an' maybe ya could do a story for Card Player."

Sure enough, a couple of days later I received a copy of the Barstow Bugle. And there it was, the lead story, written by their top reporter, Ace Hawkins. As far as I could tell, Ace was also their only reporter, because he also had bylined stories on local, national, and international news, on financial and society news, and a cooking column, as well. The story, after corrections for grammar, syntax, and spelling, went like this:

In the biggest news to hit Barstow since Hiram Manure's cat Toby gave birth to a six-legged kitten, Big Denny's Barstow Card Casino crowned its first annual Poker Player of the Year, Mr. Horace Breadstick, in a gala ceremony held in the Barstow Arts, Cultural, and Livestock Auction Arena. Mr. Breadstick won the title by amassing the most points after playing in 300 poker tournaments at the casino, the minimum number required to be eligible for the final rankings.

In his acceptance speech, Mr. Breadstick acknowledged that the virtual round-the-clock playing had caused some disruption in his personal life. His savings were wiped out, and because of his neglect of farm and family, he suffered a crop failure, his home was repossessed, his wife left him, and he was forced to place his children in an orphanage. Still, he added, it was worth the sacrifice because the prize he had won was exactly what he had dreamed of all his life: a trip to Paris.

There was an awkward moment as Mr. Big Denny stepped forward to explain that there must have been a misunderstanding, because first place was not a trip to Paris, but to Perris, an obscure rural town somewhere near California's Salton Sea, though nobody was sure exactly where. Some harsh words were exchanged, which resulted in a shoving match, the unfortunate consequence being that Mr. Breadstick was pushed off the reviewing stand and fell some 20 feet into the livestock holding pen, where he suffered a dislocated pelvis and was gored in the buttocks by an angry bull he had landed on.

Fortunately, this resulted in only a brief delay in the ceremonies, because Mr. Breadstick was quickly removed by ambulance and taken to the Barstow Community and Veterinarian Hospital, where he was treated for shock, had 80 stitches implanted in his hindquarters, and was put in a full-body cast. After a plea for his full and speedy recovery, speeches were delivered by the Barstow City Council expressing gratitude to Mr. Denny for bringing worldwide recognition to Barstow. In recognition of his achievement, he was informed, he would be granted a year's stay of a sheriff's order closing his casino for operating without a gaming license. Mr. Denny was so touched that he added a free coupon, good for a meal at the casino's four-star buffet, to Mr. Breadstick's prize. He also offered to pay $50 toward Mr. Breadstick's medical and rehabilitation expenses, which were later estimated to be somewhat over $15,000.

Afterward, entertainment was provided by the Barstow Junior High School bugle and drum corps, which played a medley of Lawrence Welk's greatest hits, and then light refreshments were served by the Barstow Farm Bureau ladies auxiliary. A good time was had by all, and we would like to add our hearty congratulations to Mr. Big Denny and to Mr. Horace Breadstick.