Poker legends: 'All in' with Todd, Pam and Doyle Brunson

I used to be a big fan of boxing, savoring the combination of grit and intelligence that great fighters brought to the ring, but then I discovered an even more arduous sport that also had great champions and terrible defeats.

I am talking about poker — Texas Hold ’em to be exact — and if you think I am joking about the grueling nature of this card game, I invite you to ram your teeth into a brick wall, run your intestines through a grinder, and pump anti-freeze into your veins. That’s approximately what it’s like to lose on a “bad beat” one spot short of “the money” — or as it is called losing “on the bubble.”

Of course, as grueling as it is, poker has one distinct advantage over boxing — anyone can do it ... even me. Heck, I still enjoy watching a great bout in the ring from time to time, but it never occurred to me even in my younger days to put on the gloves myself and get in the ring with Muhammad Ali or Smokin’ Joe Frazier.

But poker is another story.

And this week, I did play in a tournament with the poker world’s equivalent of Muhammad Ali — namely with Doyle Brunson, the Godfather of Texas Hold’em.

Doyle’s son, fellow poker professional Todd Brunson, has been sponsoring the third annual Montana Poker Challenge at Marina Cay in Bigfork for the past five days, in conjunction with a World Poker Tour Boot Camp. He and Doyle are just two of several professional players on hand for the tourney and training camp.

Doyle, however, is the big draw. At 77 years old, Texas Dolly — as he is known in poker circles — has been playing professionally for more than 50 years. But longevity is not his greatest accomplishment — he’s put his time to good use, winning the World Series of Poker main event twice, garnering a total of 10 World Series bracelets, and earning close to $6 million from tourneys alone during his storied career. He’s also the author of the classic poker manual “Super System.”

So the idea of being in the same room with him is fairly intimidating for a middling-to-fair poker player, let alone being in the same tournament. Besides, with Doyle it’s a family affair. Not only does Todd play professional poker, but for the past four years they have been joined by Todd’s sister Pam.

The Brunsons are best-known these days as representatives of the Las Vegas gambling lifestyle, but Todd and Doyle also have homes in Rollins on Flathead Lake, and their laconic good-humored approach to life makes them dead ringers for native Montanans. They are clearly good folks, but nonetheless, their spots in the pantheon of poker gods makes them seem as remote and formidable as Mount Everest and K2 for a climber — and they offer a card player just as irresistible a challenge.

So when I heard that Todd and Doyle were both going to be playing in the tournament at Marina Cay, my appetite was whetted. Unfortunately, my bankroll remained as skinny as ever.

The main event today costs a minimum of $333 for a stack of chips, which is a bit out of my reach, so I knew there wasn’t any chance to buy an entry with cash. But Wednesday night, Todd hosted a charity tournament with a buy-in of $65 that featured as its prize two entries into the main event. After long consultations with my wife and financial manager (wait, they are the same person!) I was given permission to enter the charity tourney on the unlikely chance that I would be able to finish in the top two and then bring home the bacon in the main event.

The tourney wound up featuring 29 players. We started on three tables, with me drawing “Table 1, Seat 1” as my starting position. It seemed like a fortuitous portent of things to come, and as I sat down, I glanced over my shoulder at the first-place trophy as if to claim ownership of it, too.

Things got off to a decent start for me. Poker, especially Texas Hold ’em, is a combination of good cards and good instincts, and I had good cards consistently through the first two 15-minute rounds. In fact, by laying down junk hands and aggressively playing my good hands, I managed to increase my starting chips from 2,500 to about 3,900. I was gaining some respect for my betting, and watched as several other players left the tables.

Through the luck of the draw, it turned out that there was a Brunson on each of the three tables. Todd was on table 1 with me, Pam on table 2, and Doyle on table 3.

Visions of making final table with Doyle danced through my head, but first I had to get through the players at my own table, including Todd.

To be candid, Todd was too busy running the tournament to even sit down at first, and then shortly after he arrived, he got crushed on an all-in bet when his pretty decent hand ran smack into an ace-high flush.

A couple of hands later, he went all-in again with his short stack, and everyone folded around to me. I raised his all-in bet to 800 in order to try to scare off the last three players, and go heads-up against Todd. It worked, and when we turned over our cards, it turned out I had him beat, but by such a slim margin that we both chuckled over the small likelihood that either of us would win the pot.

I had ace-seven and Todd had ace-six. When the flop came down “king, ten, jack,” it was virtually inevitable that we would split the pot as neither the six or seven would be relevant in the final hand. We did split, but at least I came this close to knocking Todd out of the game.

Then something happened which I would not wish on my worst enemy — the deck went cold. One hand after another was so precipitously bad that they could only be played at risk of great bodily injury. I whistled Dixie and tried to bluff at a few pots, but it was not to be. As the blinds rapidly increased to 600-300, my chip stack equally rapidly dwindled down to chip chump change. When finally I saw an ace-nine, I pushed my remaining chips into the center and hoped for the best. Alas, the big blind called me with jack-10 and hit the 10 on the flop, sending me home with a feeble “good game” as my only reward.

But now for the rest of the story.

I didn’t make the final table, but that’s not exactly surprising. What you don’t know is that Doyle Brunson got knocked out of the tournament ahead of me. So did Todd a few hands later, and then Pam got dispatched by fellow pro Hoyt Corkins. They didn’t like it. No poker player does, but they were gone nonetheless.

In case you didn’t notice, that means I outlasted the three poker-playin’ Brunsons, which gives me bragging rights worth a lot more than $65 (which, by the way, went to support the Flathead Valley High School Rodeo Association).

All told, I finished smack dab in the middle of the 29-person field in about 14th or 15th place, but it still goes down as a victory for me.

I also learned a little about myself and a little more about poker.

Regarding myself, I learned that I am a poker player about to the extent that Doyle Bunson is a newspaper editor.

Regarding the game itself, I learned that, yes, a poker tournament has a bit of the heavyweight championship bout to it, but crossed with a traveling carnival show. I suppose that makes me something between Muhammad Ali and the bearded lady, but if someone wants to stake me to the main event today, I’ll take a jab at every pot until the bearded lady cries uncle.

Doyle probably wants a rematch. ’Nuff said?