How My Sweetie Stole Aces & Eights

There's a very minor discrepancy between my poker accomplishments and those of my sweetie. She has enough trophies and plaques and bracelets and crystal and posters and Barbara Enright casino chips and magazine articles about her and video interviews, and so on, to fill several garages – just a little more than me, to say the least. But there's one tournament I've won that she never had (or, as she is so fond of sweetly reminding me, the only tournament I've ever won). Whenever she starts ragging me about how bad I play poker, I could always shut her up by taunting: "If you're so good, how come you never won Aces & Eights?"

Aces & Eights is a private, invitational tournament that I've written about from time to time. The longest-running event of its type on the planet – 28 years and counting – it's an annual fun get-together at different scenic sites. The game is dealer's choice no-limit. While almost all the players are recreational, it's as hard-fought as the World Series championship and boasts some very tough players. For example, Glenn "Crazy Man" Cozen finished second the year Jim Bechtel won the $10,000 event, and Jay "Moose" Moriarty, founder and impresario of A&E, won one of the two dozen or so Seniors World Championship of Poker tournaments staged monthly by Oklahoma Johnny Hale.

Anyway, I made history a few years ago by winning the event when it was held on Catalina Island. Forget about the other legendary poker matchups, such as Nick the Greek versus Johnny Moss, Chris Ferguson versus T.J. Cloutier, or Ralph the Rattler versus any of the 6-year-old kiddies he lures to his home game. Jay and I engaged in a titanic, nightlong heads-up match, which I won despite being heckled by my sweetie every step of the way. When I gathered in the last chip, a befuddled Moriarty shook his head and confessed that he could never figure out what I was doing or where I was at.

"That's all right," my sweetie assured him. "Neither can he."

Barbara and I nearly broke up as a result of my victory. It was not that she was jealous. She just got sore when we rented a golf cart afterward to drive around the island's steep hills and I carefully tied the seat belt around the trophy instead of around her.

In any event, no woman in history had ever won an A&E event. And then this year, my world, and that of A&E, was turned upside down when my sweetie took down the top prize. Maybe it was because I was busy doing the write-ups for Commerce Casino's California State Poker Championship and wasn't there to annoy her.

Let me quote a few selected paragraphs from the tournament report written by Jay, who writes and produces for television in his spare time when he isn't running Aces & Eights. (Every player there is required by law to have a nickname. My sweetie is called "Spots" because she wore a leopard print blouse the first time she played. "Zip" is Dr. Mike Vitullo. "E" is Jay's younger brother, Dave.)

Who'd have thunk it? Certainly not Zip, who just last year promised to shave his head if a woman ever won the Aces & Eights. Now he says it was E's head he promised to shave. And speaking of shaving, E's demanding a hormone test for the new champ. "She certainly doesn't play like any woman I've ever seen," says the third-place finisher and five-time AE champion.

Says another veteran of the new champ, "She's no woman. She's a pro!" But Aces & Eights is known for gobbling up pros and spitting them out like waterlogged wads of stale tobacco. Consider the fate of World Poker Champion Tom McEvoy, who took two shots at Aces & Eights fame and finished no higher than 33rd.

So, how did Barbara "Spots" Enright, acknowledged as the most feared female in the professional poker world, manage to cop the AE crown? Perseverance. It took five tries; but like a true champ, she never gave up. "I wanted to win this just as much as the World Series," says Spots. "Maybe more!"

The site for this year's event was the Special K Ranch, home of Kenny Adler and Adrienne Armstrong in Fallbrook, California. Set high among the rolling hills of nearby Temecula's wine country, it was perhaps the most captivating environment Aces & Eights players have experienced.

What advice would Spots give wannabe champs? "Play aggressive," she offered. "Make 'em sweat. Make their hearts pound!"

Spots, who got her nickname from the leopard pattern clothing she wears, was surprisingly dressed all in black, looking more like a panther. But she was still sporting her trademark sunglasses. Barbara's insignificant other, award-winning journalist and former AE Champ Max the Ax Shapiro, was nowhere to be seen – some lame excuse about working – but Barbara's sweater and protégeé, Rookie Cheryl Kaufman (wife of Craig Kaufman, manager of the Club Caribe casino near Los Angeles), was behind the champ-to-be till the end.

As Jay continues with his detailed, hand-for-hand account, he relates how Barbara won a turning-point hand with trip sixes in "jacks back" when a player split aces, made a flush, but had his hand declared dead when he forgot to mark his discarded card with a chip; how she got lucky in a key hold'em hand when she was all in and outdrew E with Q-J versus A-9; and at last won the final hand against Frenchy Violette when she made an ace-high flush in Omaha against his king-high. Concluding his report, he writes:

The question is no longer, "Will a woman ever win the Aces & Eights?" But as long as the Leopard Lady is around, the question may become, "Will a man ever win the Aces & Eights again?"

Well, it's a good thing Amarillo Slim wasn't there or he might have had to carry out his threat to slit his throat if a woman ever won the big one. (Yeah, I know he claims he was talking about a particular woman, but that's his story.)

Anyway, while I was thrilled for my sweetie and proud that we were the only A&E championship couple in the world, I was still puzzled at how a girl was able to run over such a tough group of players. "That was some accomplishment," I said, trying to sound her out.

"Oh, not really," she replied, buffing her fingernails. "They were putty in my hands."

Putty? I had spent nearly 20 years studying these characters and had a file cabinet full of notes about their styles and tells. For example, under "E," I had written, "Bets and scratches left ear, he's bluffing, move in against him." I had similar detailed notes about Moose, Joel the Mole, Ron the Rock. I knew what it meant when Yarm the Arm belched, or when the Rattler kissed the "lucky" photo of his hero, Fidel Castro. "Can you give me an example?" I asked.

"Well," she replied confidently, "when E scratches his left ear, he's bluffing. When Yarm belches, he has the nuts. When Ralph the Rattler kisses Fidel Castro … "

My notes! I ran in a panic to my filing cabinet. They were gone! My sweetie had stolen all my valuable notes!

"You, you thief!" I shouted. "How could you?"

"You always expose your cards when you play," she laughed. "If your cards are public knowledge, why shouldn't your notes be, too?"

Well, that's it. I wrote a letter of complaint to the California Gaming Commission, and another to Jay, demanding that he put an asterisk next to her name, just like they did when Roger Maris broke Babe Ruth's home run record in a longer season. I've gotten no response yet from either.

But that's not the worst of it. Now my sweetie is bugging me to write her acceptance speech at A&E 2004.