Remembering Iron Man

Back in 1979, I had been playing no-limit hold'em for almost a year, and had fallen in love with the game. I was playing in a money game at one of the major poker tournaments. (At that time, there were only two, the World Series and the Super Bowl, but I'm not sure where this took place.) I knew many of the players, but the button was a stranger to me. He was a short, stocky man who looked to be in his 50s. A flop in an unraised pot came down jack, rag, rag, and everyone checked to the button. The man on the button did not check in the normal way, by rapping the table. Instead, he gave a disgusted-looking beckoning wave of the hand to the dealer that said both "Deal another card" and "He dealt me zero one more time." A blank hit and someone bet. At this time, the man on the button put in a big raise.

It was obvious to me what had happened. The wave of the hand had been a charade, and the bettor had erred. But the fellow who got raised apparently had so much hand that he was considering putting in his whole stack, and eventually he did. The button showed him three jacks, top set, for all of his money. I was not impressed with the hand wave, because once the raise was made, everything was now apparent.

Jay Heimowitz was sitting next to me when this hand took place. I asked him about the button: "Who is that cornball?"

Jay gave me a look of surprise, since my way of asking implied a derogatory view of the man's poker game, and said simply, "That's Iron Man."

I could tell that Jay had a higher opinion of the man's ability than I had acquired from this one hand. And that nickname is not one you would give to a pushover. I asked, "Can he play?"

Jay said, "He's a tough customer."

My first impression of Iron Man's poker prowess from that hand had been wrong by 180 degrees. One thing that happened during that hand never did change, though. If Iron put all of his money into the pot, and you were not looking at the absolute nuts in the hole, you could soon do so by calling. I gambled many times in hold'em games with Iron Man over the years, and no one ever dealt him a draw big enough to make him bet his stack. Of all the colorful nicknames given to poker players, I never saw a more fitting one than Iron Man.

Iron Man's real name was Curtis Skinner. He lived in Arlington, Texas, near Dallas, the whole time I knew him. He owned a jewelry store and a hockshop, but played poker whenever he could. His first love, however, was golf. Strangely enough, he had not acquired his nickname at the poker table, but on the putting greens. Although Iron was far from having the usual physique of a good player of that game (picture a golfer of Ian Woosnam's height and Craig Stadler's build), he was a heck of a good putter, and even tougher when there was a sizable sum at stake. He earned his nickname one day from Doyle Brunson, with whom he was good friends and a frequent golf companion. Dewey Tomko is another poker player who had shared a lot of time with Iron on the golf course.

Over the years, I became quite friendly with Iron Man. He told me that he had grown up on a farm. His usual routine was to get up at about 5 o'clock in the morning, milk cows, pitch hay, and do many other farm chores. While other teenagers were playing sports or out cruising for girls, he worked with his hands for 12 or 14 hours a day. I'm sure a major factor in his style of play was that he had worked so hard for so long to get his money.

Iron Man did not play a hand of poker for real money until he was 29 years old. A friend took him to a poker game. Iron could not believe the huge sums of money that were being bet, often without much of a hand. He eventually took a seat in the game, and won. The game was good, and Iron Man, despite his inexperience, continued to win in subsequent weeks - and months, and years. His method was very simple; wait for a good hand before putting in the big bucks.

I know that people schooled in the more modern methods of poker regard such a style as overly simplistic. It is true that such an approach will not prove very successful in tournament play. It is true that Iron Man, in the early '80s, was not much more than a break-even player in Charlie's game in Dallas, where we all knew what we were up against. But it is a fine approach to poker when the money is flying around on light hands, which was often the case in no-limit games around the state of Texas in the '70s and '80s. And if someone mistakenly thinks you are just a cornball …

I'll close this column by telling the story of a hand I played against Iron early in the no-limit hold'em part of my poker career. I raised a hand from the button with a suited ace. Iron called me from the big blind. The flop came down 4-2-2 with two of my suit. I bet about $150 and Iron called. Off came a 6, making my flush. I bet $400 and Iron called again. Something low came on the river and I bet a grand. Iron raised another $800 all in. I went into a huddle. Surely he could not expect me to hold the nut flush from my betting. Was he slow-playing two aces? Did he have trips or a smaller flush? The pot had about three grand in it, and it was only $800 to see the hand through. I called. Iron showed me sixes full and took the pot. I discussed the hand later with Jay Heimowitz, whose game I greatly respected (and still do). Jay told me my betting was OK, but the last $800 was a bad call, as if I had forgotten who I was playing against. You've got to show respect to someone nicknamed Iron Man!

Editor's note: Bob Ciaffone's new book Middle Limit Holdem Poker, co-authored with Jim Brier, is available now (332 pages, $25 plus $6 shipping and handling). This work and his other poker books, Pot-limit and No-limit Poker, Improve Your Poker, and Omaha Holdem Poker, can be ordered through Card Player. Ciaffone is available for poker lessons. E-mail [email protected] or call (989) 792-0884. His website is www.diamondcs.net/~thecoach, where you can download Robert's Rules of Poker for free.