"You play your money how you want to, and I'll play their money how I want to." That's Sam Grizzle in a nutshell; he's been staked more than the transcontinental railway line. He has been a professional gambler longer than most Internet players have been alive. Sam hails from North Carolina, and while he's not exactly a fixture in Bobby's Room, where the "big game" has been held for the past few years, he has been on several tears that have sent the players of the big game running for cover (or at least for a seat in the game while he was there).
One of these tears started six or seven years ago by my own hand. A $400-$800 mixed game started up with a guy who had just taken his company public for a nine-figure payday. He was celebrating in Bellagio's top section (pre-Bobby's Room). The game quickly filled up and I found myself 20th on the list. Many players couldn't afford to be playing that level and were just "taking shots" in the game. Two seats quickly opened up, but this did me little good as I was so far down the list.
"Sam Grizzle. Seat open!" squawked Carmen Bates, the top-section supervisor.
Sam comes strolling over with his cordial face on and says hi to me. I know immediately where this is going, because it lacks the usual insult that accompanies all of Sam's greetings.
"No, Sam, I don't want to put you in," I said, quickly cutting him off.
"You don't even know what I was gonna say!" protests a seemingly wounded Grizzle.
"OK, what were you gonna say?" I for some reason ask, knowing full well the answer.
"I was just gonna ask how you been doing."
"Fine, Sam."
"That's good. Now, how'd you like to put me in that game?"
I've never been one to stake players, but looking at that lineup, I figured Sam was a big favorite, and this was probably my only shot to get a piece of this game before it broke up.
"OK, Sam, you got it. But you owe half of what you lose; this isn't a makeup deal!"
"Lose? Hell, I'll buy you a Cadillac if I can't beat this game!" he exclaims as he runs to lock up his seat.
The game went well into the night and I finally went home. After receiving mixed reports on the outcome the next day, I called Sam to get the final answer.
"I won $50,000," Sam informed me, and then he went on to say how unlucky he had been not to win $5 million.
We tried to hold the bankroll together as a partnership, with Sam playing and me managing, but we both grew tired of this. Sam thinks he can beat every game, and it grew old for both of us - me trying to explain to him to be patient and wait for a good spot, and him chomping at the bit.
We split up the bankroll and Sam went out on his own. The next several months, Sam went on a tear, winning well over a million, possibly two, before his inevitable meltdown. Sam's meltdowns are worse than Loud Mouth's [Mike Matusow] blowups; they both are their own worst enemies. Sam went from playing in the biggest game in the world to hustling to get into satellites. This might be enough to kill many players, but not Sam. In fact, for him, that's nothing. Here's a story I've often told:
About 14 years ago, I was playing in a $150-$300 hold'em game at Commerce Casino. Early in the morning, Sam Grizzle walks in and starts commenting on how good the game is. When asked why he's not playing, he pulls out his bankroll ($2) and sarcastically asks how much the buy-in is.
He leaves, and after talking to Puggy Pearson, comes back with $10,000 and starts to play. Now, after about an hour, Sam and Puggy get into an argument (about what, I can't remember offhand), and Puggy picks up his $10,000 and half of what Sam was winning, leaving Sam with about $400, far short of the required buy-in. Fortunately for Sam, no one says anything. Sam goes all in five or six times right away, and in about four hours, he is winning around $40,000.
If this isn't amazing enough, Sam quits the game, announcing that he's going to do us a big favor and go play the tournament, allowing us to keep what money we had left. (He also told us how smart he was and dumb we were, of course.) You can guess what happened next: Sam the genius wins the tournament and another $120,000 to go with the $40,000 he won from us earlier that morning; not bad for a guy who showed up at the casino with $2 in his pocket.
It's now 6 a.m. and he's been in the Commerce Casino for exactly 24 hours. It's time to get some sleep; that is, if he were a normal human, but Sam's far from that. He comes up to the top section, where there's a tough $800-$1,600 razz game in progress. Sam stumbles over and bellies up to the table, losing his entire $160,000 in a fairly short period of time.
Instead of becoming upset, Sam simply told everyone how dumb they were, shook his head, and walked out of the casino with the exact same $2 he had showed up with the day before. Just another day in the life of a gambler.
