Imagine what it would have been like if Bear Bryant, Vince Lombardi, and George Halas traveled together for 10 years and did nothing but talk football. Or, if Warren Buffett, Peter Lynch, and George Soros went around the world picking stocks together and exchanging investment ideas.
There's an old expression that your character is defined by the company you keep and how you keep it. In poker, it's much simpler: The company you keep will impact your bankroll. I don't think it's any coincidence that three of the top seven in Card Player's 2002 Player of the Year rankings – John Juanda, Daniel Negreanu, and Phil Ivey – are great friends and travel a lot together.
In writing the memoirs of Amarillo Slim, which will be published by HarperCollins this May, I've come to realize that Slim's success was most influenced by the company he kept. While still in high school, he met up with Rudolph Walderone, aka Minnesota Fats, in Hot Springs, Arkansas, and learned about the art of pool hustling. One of the first things Fats said to Slim was, "Every time a bird flies over my Cadillac, I buy a new one," and while it may have sounded like nothing but arrogance, Slim recognized it for what it was – a psychological ploy to entice a bet.
As for Slim's famous proposition bets, he'll be the first to tell you that he learned his tricks of the trade from another man born in Arkansas, Alvin Clarence Thomas, aka Titanic Thompson. Ty's most famous bet might have been the time he bet he could drive a golf ball a mile and proceeded – with suckers in tow – to a frozen lake. Years later, Slim made a bundle from the exact same bet.
When the legend of Slim as a pool hustler spread and it became harder for him to find a match, he switched his craft to poker. At a game in Breenham, Texas, in the early '60s, he played with a couple of guys who he thought were sharp cats; their names were Doyle Brunson and Sailor Roberts. Recognizing how much he had learned from Fats and Titanic, Slim knew that to take his poker game to the next level, he better get to know these guys. A few days later, they formed a partnership, and the rest is gambling history.
Doyle, Sailor, and Slim traveled through Texas playing poker in the '60s and talking about it at every stop. Can you imagine how much it helped them to play a session and then go back to a motel room or a restaurant and have each other to critique their play, to let them know if they were giving off a tell, or to discuss tendencies of the other players?
Let's just say that a lot of knowledge must have changed hands, because in a six-year period from 1972 to 1977, those three players won four World Series of Poker championships between them. Slim won it in '72, Sailor in '75, and Doyle became the first back-to-back winner in '76 and '77. And even better for them, they had a hell of a lot of fun doing it.
One of Slim's favorite stories involved the time that the three of them stayed out all night at the racetrack in El Paso, Texas, and then decided to take off down to Chihuahua, Mexico. Here's Slim's account of what happened:
This trip was supposed to be just a simple vacation south of the border – a few days of relaxation in the sun with the company of some beautiful señoritas, good Mexican food, and some crazy dancing. Knowing that we had a tendency to make wagers with one another, we made a pact that we weren't going to gamble among ourselves. The way I saw it, gambling amongst friends could only lead to dissension, so we all agreed not to make the others a bet and just concentrate on having some fun.
It was late in the afternoon, and we had just entered the edge of the Sierra Madres. I was driving my station wagon, Sailor was in the front seat, and Doyle was in back. Just like it was nothing, Doyle said, "Slim, how long you think it'd take you to shinny up the side of that there mountain?"
Well, I kinda ducked down so I could look out the window, and I said, "Well, I could run up there before sundown." Sailor bent over to look up, too, and said, "Hell, you couldn't climb up there in two days, Slim."
But we were just driving, and nothing more was said, and I knew better not to stir things up. Then when we saw a little bigger mountain down the road, Sailor said, "Doyle, how long you think it would take you to shinny up that mountain?" Doyle looked at it and said, "Oh, I could climb it in two hours, easy."
I was driving about 90 miles an hour, and Sailor leaned over, shoved my skinny ass to the door, and slammed on the brakes. "Get your fat ass out there!" Sailor said. "It's a bet." So much for our rule, I thought, and these sons of guns each posted their $2,000 wager.
Well, Doyle, who had set records in track and would have played for the Lakers had he not broken his leg, shinnied up that mountain like a mountain goat on a mission. When he came on back down, Sailor, a very proud man, refused to hand him that money; he just threw it on the floorboard of the car. And Doyle, another proud man, refused to pick it up. That money lay there for a long time, and every time I looked at it, I reiterated: "No more gambling among ourselves on this here road trip."
Slim promises to finish the story in my next column, and while you wait, think about the company you keep and if they're the type of players who can elevate your poker game to championship status. But just be sure not to gamble with them.
Greg Dinkin is the co-author of Amarillo Slim in a World Full of Fat People, which will be published by HarperCollins in May 2003. He is also the co-founder of Venture Literary, www.ventureliterary.com, where he works with writers to find publishers for their books and producers for their films. Autographed copies of his book, The Poker MBA (see the ad in this issue), www.thepokermba.com, are available through Card Player.