The Kid Stays in the Picture

Earlier this year my pal Andy Glazer moved to Hollywood, just a couple of blocks from where I live. Directly across from him is the home of Michael Konik, a noted poker and gaming writer who has written two gaming books (The Man With the $100,000 Breasts and Telling Lies and Getting Paid) and a golf book, and is currently the golf editor for Delta Sky Magazine. I'm not sure if it's a good idea to have all of us living so close together. If a bomb were to explode in our neighborhood, the three most gifted poker writers on the planet might be killed in one shot.

Also, having Andy within shouting distance can get tiresome. He's always calling and coming by, asking me how to spell words or to help him figure out poker hands, or begging for advice on what to say on dates. Then, the other day he called to tell me that he was going to have some lines in an upcoming movie about the life of Stu Ungar. They hired him as their technical consultant (why him instead of me I'll never know). But then he badgered them for a speaking part, so he could tell prospective girlfriends that he was an actor, and they finally agreed to give him a few lines playing the part of a well-known poker player.

"Can you guess whom I'll be playing?" he asked.

"Give me a hint."

"Well, he's tall and handsome, just like me, and has multiple World Series bracelets."

"You're playing the part of Stuey?"

"No, you idiot. Ungar was about 4 feet tall. Guess again."

"Oklahoma Johnny Hale?"

"Hale doesn't have a bracelet."

"Yes, he does. I saw one on his wrist."

"That's a tattoo."

"Well, it's very realistic. I give up. Who is it?"

"Phil Hellmuth."

"Phil? How come he isn't playing himself?" I wondered.

"Well, after he had that bad beat at The Bicycle Casino and kicked a door off its hinges, they were afraid to let him near any expensive camera equipment. But it wasn't deliberate," Andy hastened to add. "Remember how he posted on rgp, explaining that he was merely trying to kick open the door?"

"Just opening the door? Then how come it ended up in the parking lot?"

"The parking lot happens to be right next to the tournament room."

"No, I mean in the parking lot of a shopping center a block away."

"Never mind," Andy said irritably. "Right now I'm trying to come up with some appropriate lines in the movie for Phil. Any suggestions?"

"How about, 'You raised me? Don't you know I have seven bracelets?'"

"Yeah, that might work," Andy said doubtfully.

"Well, knowing what to say is one thing, but how will you be able to act the part?"

"I guess I'll just wing it."

Inspiration struck. I had been seeking a way to get back at Andy for ridiculing my play in a Legends of Poker tag-team event, which I had really won. "I think I might be able to help you," I said, hanging up before he could ask me what I had in mind.

Two days later I showed up on his doorstep accompanied by Dirty Wally, suitcase in his hand. "This is Dirty Wally, the celebrated actor and poker player," I said. "He'll be staying here for a month to coach you. Wally, say hello to Andy."

"When's dinner?" Wally asked. He strode in, looking for the master bedroom where I told him he could bunk.

Andy appeared lukewarm in his appreciation. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted. "Why did you bring that character here?"

"Shhh," I whispered. "You might hurt his feelings. You should be grateful for his help. Wally's had a distinguished career in films. He was the assistant driver of the catering truck for Birth of a Nation. And he had a role in that other poker movie, The Big Blind."

"The Big Blind? Is that movie ever coming out?"

"Well, it's been in post-production for six years. They're trying to decide whether to have someone else dub in Wally's lines or just cut him out of the movie altogether."

"This isn't going to work, Max."

"Sure it is," I smiled devilishly. "Just look at his credentials."

I handed him Dirty Wally's calling card, which was crammed with drawings, sayings, information about his career, and requests to be staked in tournaments. "It says here that he teaches the Strasberg method of poker and the Sklansky method of acting. Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Don't confuse him," I said. "Quiet, here he comes now."

Dirty Wally walked out. He had changed clothes and was now garbed in the knickers, cap, and pullover sweater favored by movie directors in the era of silent films. "Say, is this gonna be a regular movie or one of them newfangled talkies?" he asked.

"A newfangled movie," Andy answered sarcastically. "There haven't been too many silents since The Jazz Singer came out in 1927."

"Don't matter none," Wally said. "I know everything there is to know about actin' and poker. What's this movie about, anyway?"

"It's about the life of Stu Ungar," Andy explained patiently.

"Stoo Ungar? Never heard of him. Well, let's get on with it. We'll start off with a diction lesson. Repeat after me: The rain in Maine stays plainly in the lane."

Wishing them luck, I bolted out the door, laughing hysterically. As I walked off, I could hear Wally spinning yarns about his good friend Rudolph Valentino.

When I phoned a couple of days later to see how it was going, Andy seemed somewhat agitated. "Wally's driving me crazy," he complained. "He's trying to get me to talk like Edward G. Robinson in The Cincinnati Kid. But I'm not playing Lancey Howard; I'm playing Phil Hellmuth."

"Do what he tells you, Andy. Edward G. Robinson is more famous than Phil," I said, hanging up quickly.

A few days later, Andy called, more upset than ever. "Do you know what he's done now? He's moved in his grandfather, Filthy Willy, and they're eating me out of house and home."

"Oh, that was my idea, Andy. I thought the two of you could rehearse scripts together."

"Read scripts together?" Andy raged. "Willy can't even read! He's never even seen a flush toilet before! He can't do anything except eat like a starving mule! He … "

Being as compassionate as I am, I quietly hung up the phone rather than become upset by my friend's suffering.

My little game, unfortunately, did not have a chance to play itself out completely. There was a change of plans. The kid still stays in the picture, but now Andy is scripted to just play himself and deliver lines as a tournament announcer. Shoot! Now I'll have to scrap this whole column and start over again. Let's see, maybe I could have Tom McEvoy be the costume designer, and Aunt Sophie could be Ungar's girlfriend, and …