Sam Grizzle was born in Greer, South Carolina (not North Carolina, as I stated in Part I of this column), around 1906. (He wouldn't tell me the exact date, so I'm just estimating the actual year.) Sam had two twin brothers whom he ate at birth. I'm not insinuating that Sam is a ruthless animal, like a snake or something, but let's just say that he fits right into the "dog-eat-dog" poker world (or, in his case, "Grizzle-eat-Grizzle" world).
Sam's not as polished or refined as most would like; many say he's outright rude. Me? I say that he's funnier than a barrel full of Gabe Kaplans. I absolutely love to see him get under a player's skin so badly that the player goes on tilt.
In my last column, I told a few stories about Sam. His total disregard for money and what most people would call a gambling sickness in those stories were nothing! This next story is literally the sickest thing I've ever seen done in gambling - even worse than Archie blowing $35 million, or whatever his peak was.
This happened about four or five years ago. My best friend Curtis Bibb and I had staked Sam many times, and we split the winnings three ways. We were doing quite well when, once, Curtis staked Sam when I wasn't there. Sam played long past the deadline that Curtis had given him before he himself went to sleep. Of course, he lost all that he was winning and the rest of the bankroll that Curtis had put up. As a result, Curtis washed his hands of Sam, saying that he'd never do business with him again.
A few months after this, Sam comes up to me while I'm in a great $400-$800 mixed game, asking to borrow money. I tell him no, and he pulls out all of his bills: final notice from Southwest gas, final notice from the electric company, and worst of all, he had 10 days to pay his mortgage (which was like six months overdue)! They added up to almost $20,000 all told. I remind Sam of the conversation we had before he bought his house. I had warned him that these bills were gonna start and just keep coming. "They never stop, Sam!" I warned him.
Sam plays his final trump card on me. "Well, maybe the baby can find someplace warm to sleep at night." Sam has a newborn and knows that I have a soft spot for kids and animals. While I have no trouble telling Sam no (since he did dig his own hole), I have a hard time turning my back on an innocent child.
I ask Curtis if he wants to put Sam in like we used to, and had to duck to avoid losing my head. Hmm.
"How much does Sam owe you?" I ask.
"That rat bastard owes me 17 thousand!" exclaims Curtis.
At the risk of being beaten to death, I make Curtis an offer: "How about we let Sam play for a third, but he has to pay you back out of his end right away?"
Now, Curtis will wind up with two-thirds of whatever Sam wins, and it's a great game. I can see that he's still on the fence, so I add a little incentive: "You know this is your only chance to ever get paid, right?" Just as Sam had hit the right button with me, this hit the right one with Ol' Big Daddy (Curtis). We were off to the races.
There were three Middle Eastern guys in the game who were playing like there was no tomorrow. The game was out of control, and we all three wind up winning about $50,000 each. Sam wins enough to square his debt with Curtis, and now he can start on those bills. We make an appointment to start the game the next day, and once again we all three win big.
Sam is the biggest winner, taking down a little more than $60,000. He has enough to pay all of his bills, with a few thousand left over. We head over to a local tavern for a little celebration. Sam is especially happy, and I can't blame him, but around sunrise, I suggest that we all go home and get some sleep. "Those guys will be back tomorrow at about 6 o'clock. Go put that money in the bank and pay all of your bills and get some rest, Sam. We'll put you in the game again, and hopefully we'll all win big one more time."
We all head off for home (at least I thought we all did), get some rest, and come back to Bellagio to play with our new friends again. When I get there, the game is already going, and Curtis is playing. There are several open seats, and one seat is locked up with about three $100 chips.
"Is that one of our Middle Eastern friends?" I ask.
There's a few chuckles around the table and Curtis says, "He's from more like the Middle South, but he's been playing worse than his cousins from the East." With that, Sam comes stumbling over, cussing about how he has lost every sports bet he's made that day.
"Hewwo, Todd. Howr you do today?" mumbles a completely drunk Sam. Curtis informs me that Sam has been there drinking and gambling all night, losing the entire $20,000 he had.
"Not the whole thing!" Sam corrects Curtis, flashing about 10 $100 bills.
A lot of good that money did him, as he was all in within 10 minutes and went broke. A Hollywood writer couldn't have set this up any better. While he was all in, the three Middle Eastern guys showed up and sat down with about $100,000 each, but this time they were all as drunk as Sam was!
"OK, boys, howa much we gonna start with today?" a drunken Grizzle asks.
"Sorry, Sam, you're drunk," I reply.
"Yeah, but so are those guys."
"True, Sam, but I'm not staking them."
I try to arrange a ride home for Sam, but he won't hear it. I guess his day wasn't bad enough, he wanted to top it off with a DUI (which luckily didn't happen). Curtis and I both went on to win close to a hundred thousand that day, while Sam had to go home and explain to his girlfriend why he couldn't pay their bills.
I'll never get over this experience for as long as I live. I bailed Sam out of a huge jam: I saved him from losing his house, got his bills paid, got him out of debt with Curtis, I got him a few thousand dollars of walking-around money, and had him set up to play in a great big game for a third of his winnings.
All Sam had to do was go home and go to sleep, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to do that. He's such a sick gambler that $20,000 was just burning a hole in his pocket. He couldn't wait 12 hours to play again! Sick! Freakin' sick!
If you don't think that story was sicker than the Archie story, keep one thing in mind: Archie had no one counting on him. Sam had a girlfriend and a newborn baby. That's what makes this story the sickest gambling experience of my life.
