Mad Marty's Wild Card

Anything for a Bet

My last column came to you from Las Vegas, on a trip I'd paid for after my win in Blackpool. Vegas proved to be profitable, too, and I'm now back in Blackpool, taking a couple of weeks off. In Vegas, I reminded myself daily of the discipline a compulsive gambler like me needs in order to make the trip profitable. Even I was shocked, however, at how far people would go for a bet during one of my first trips to the grown-up Disneyland that is Vegas.



I had won a $3,000 satellite into my first World Series of Poker event, and was feeling very pleased with myself as I rounded up some friends and took them to the Golden Nugget for a celebratory drink. My destination was a place we call Kelly's Bar. Kelly, the barman, is now a good friend, and within minutes of walking through the door, a round of 16 bottles of beer was on the bar; 15 bottles were claimed, and before I had had a chance to tell Kelly I'd over-ordered, an American guy tapped me on the shoulder to ask what we were celebrating. Here's lesson No. 1 for Vegas virgins: Never tell people you are winning, especially a stranger.



Unfortunately, no one had taught me that lesson yet. I told him we were poker players, in Vegas for the WSOP, and that I'd just won a satellite into my first event and had pocketed dollars as well as the tournament chips. After congratulating me and telling me I must be a Vegas natural who was surely on a winning streak, he asked if he could have the extra bottle of beer. I couldn't very well say no after telling him I was winning, so I let him have it.



As Kelly saw our bottles emptying, a fresh round appeared on the bar. Once more, there were 16 bottles and, once more, the same guy appeared and asked whether the extra bottle was for him. At this point, I started to wish I hadn't been quite so open about my fortune. I let him have the beer, and when he had gone, I told Kelly that the next round was to be only 15.



When the third round appeared, so did the guy, who asked not for the beer, but for $20 for some gas. I thought he had indigestion until he explained that he had lost his money and needed petrol for his car to get home. The thought that he was leaving persuaded me to give him the money. Twenty minutes later he came back, admitting to losing the $20, and asked for $50 more. This time I said no, and told him to leave me alone. He took no notice, and instead of leaving, he took a bag of drugs out of his pocket and tried to sell it to me, claiming it was worth twice the value he was willing to sell it to me for.



Now, I may be a compulsive gambler with an addictive personality, but I get all the buzz I need at the green baize or at the furlong pole. This time I told him to leave before I called for security. As a parting shot, he said that for the $50, I could sleep with his wife. Well, I'm not stupid … I asked which one she was first!

"Mad Marty" Wilson is a professional poker player from Wolverhamtpon and a poker consultant for Matchroom Sports.