SATURDAY 17TH FEBRUARY 1996
Walking nervously down some rock solid steps, Diaz had no idea of what was waiting for him.
“It’s taking place in there,” said the man.
The man in question was an older, smaller, menacing looking man. His hair was dark, his eyes brown, but missing the spark which indicated he still had a soul, he had a thick moustache and heavy stubble. Simply put, this was not a nice man who was leading Diaz down these steps.
“Thank you,” Raul muttered.
Back in 1996, Diaz was not the twisted and callous man he is today, he was an innocent twenty-one year old, getting his first taste at life as a real man. Staring at the shady wooden door, the youngster timidly knocked before softly pushing the door open.
“DID I SAY COME IN?” a voice shouted from inside the room.
Not used to a confrontation, Diaz stood anxiously in the doorway too afraid to answer the question.
“Uh, um, I’m, err, I….” he stumbled over his words.
Suddenly the entire room erupted in laughter, much to Raul’s surprise, especially as he did not understand what they were laughing at.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA. Don’t worry kid, I’m just fucking with you,” the same voice from a moment ago, stated.
Relieved, the tender Mexican cautiously shuffled his way into the room, making sure to close the door after himself.
“Well don’t just stand there, come and take a seat. We aren’t going to be waiting for you all day,”
THURSDAY 20TH AUGUST 1992
“All in,” the squeaky voice proudly proclaimed.
Pondering over his cards for a few seconds, the eighteen year old Raul decided it was time to call the all in, and pushed his chips in, leaving a few back, knowing that if he was to lose the pot he’d still be in the game.
“I call,” Raul responded vocally.
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the other boys in the room emphasised.
Slowly the squeaky voiced boy, Antonio, turned his two cards over to reveal an Ace of Diamonds and a King of Spades.
“Okay, what you got?” Antonio asked.
Gulping, Raul shamefully turned his cards over to reveal a Ten of Hearts and a Six of Clubs. Antonio grinned gleefully, knowing he was a big favourite to win the hand and double up.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” shouted the black haired, Tito.
“What were you thinking?” Francisco said, whilst shaking his head.
“That was so stupid,” the other remaining player, Juande, commented.
Embarrassed, Raul watched as Francisco dealt the flop, revealing a King of Clubs, a Ten of Diamonds and a Queen of Hearts.
“Come on, give me another ten,” Raul willed the cards to do him a favour.
The three that were out of the hand, remained shaking their heads in disgust at a stupid play by their school acquaintance, Raul.
“King, King, King, King, King,” Antonio repeated over and over as he had his hands held together like he was in prayer.
In a change of pace, Francisco quickly laid out the turn card, revealing a Six of Diamonds, giving Raul two pair and in the lead heading into the final card.
“YES!” the very young Raul exclaimed.
Holding his head in his hands, Antonio couldn’t believe that he was going to be out of the game by a stupid, but lucky call by the slick haired Diaz.
“Very very lucky, Diaz,” Tito remarked.
Placing the card face down, Francisco teased before finally turning over the river card.
“FUCK!”
The card was the Jack of Spades.
“YES! YES! YES!”
The conflicting emotions were evident. While Antonio swept the poker chips in towards himself, Raul was left with his head, face down on the table, knowing that he had messed up and had only left himself with very few chips in a game he could have had great control over. Instead, he was the bottom feeder.
“You should have knocked him out, Raul. Now you’ll be the one knocked out,” Juande whispered into his ear.
SATURDAY 17TH FEBRUARY 1996
Taking a seat around the circular table, Diaz found himself surrounded by men double and triple his age.
“You sure you’re old enough to be playing?” said the man from earlier.
The table laughed once again, as the innocent Diaz, mustered up enough courage to answer.
“Twenty-one, and ready to play sir,” he stated and smiled politely.
“Lets get playing then,”
Looking around the table as the first cards were being dealt, the youngster was seated next to the loud talker known as “Tiny” as most fat people seem to be called. He must have weighed nearly 400lbs and was a typical slob, he was Italian-American, forty-three years old and had several beers and bags of potato chips on the table in front of him.
“Fold,” stated Monroe.
Monroe was the old man at the table, seventy-four years old and having played poker all his life, even playing cash games with the legendary Doyle Brunson on many occasions. He had grey hair, a thin grey moustache and was very slender in build, despite being six feet tall.
“I’ll raise twenty bucks,” remarked Elvis, while throwing the twenty dollar bill into the centre of the table like a paper airplane.
Of course Elvis was not his real name, but his thick and greasy black hair and black sunglasses bore a great resemblance to The King in his heyday. This Elvis was in his thirties and thought very highly of himself.
“I’m out,” said Tiny.
Carefully looking at his cards so no one else at the table could see them, Raul saw an Ace of Clubs and a Ten of Clubs. Weighing up his options and noticing that two people had already folded, Raul had made a decision.
“I’ll call,” Raul smirked.
Placing the twenty dollar bill in the middle of the table, Raul looked to his left and noticed that he hadn’t heard this man say a single word. The man was six feet tall and built strongly, he was forty-four years old and dressed in a neat black suit. Raising the dark black sunglasses up onto his neatly combed brown hair, his piercing bright blue eyes stared at his cards for what seemed like an eternity, before he muffed his cards.
“I’ll fold,” said the final man at the table.
Mickey was a full blooded Irishman, from Kilkenny. Standing at only five feet five inches, he certainly had a presence about him, most likely because he was the stereotypical drunk Irishman, as evidenced by the five empty Guinness cans on the ground and two opened ones on the table, not to mention the bag full of more cans attached to the back of his seat. At fifty-three years old, he shouldn’t be drinking so much, but he was too stubborn to change and no one would be able to put him off, not with his temper.
“Deal the flop then,” demanded Tiny.
With only Raul and Elvis in the hand, Monroe dealt the flop, showing a Two of Diamonds, Four of Diamonds and Seven of Hearts. Out of position, Raul watched as Elvis raised the pot.
“Raise fifty bucks,”
Sneaking a second peak at his own hand, and knowing full well that he had nothing, the youngster was tempted to fold.
“I would like to re-raise one hundred dollars,” Raul spoke softly.
Pulling five crisp twenty dollar bills out of his wallet, Diaz gently placed them in the pot.
“He’s got cahones,” remarked Tiny as Mickey loudly gulped having finished another can of Guinness.
Taking a few moments to think things over, Elvis muffed his hand, revealing the Ace of Diamonds, but keeping the second card hidden.
“I’ll give you this hand kid, just don’t expect me to let you have one again,” Elvis warned.
Like a kid in a candy shop, Raul reached quickly to reap in his winnings on the opening hand.
THURSDAY 20TH AUGUST 1992
Rolling his eyes, the eighteen year old Raul folded yet another hand, leaving him with only a handful of chips.
“Amazing. This was your idea, Raul. I thought you said you were good at this,” commented Tito.
Frustrated, Raul ignored him and just focused on dealing the next hand to everyone.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, showing a glaring tell that he had a worthless hand.
He did have a worthless hand, the worst starting hand in poker, a seven and a two. Irritated by his apparent lack of luck and skill, Raul folded out of turn and sat there brewing until the next hand for another opportunity to move all-in.
“Hurry up,” he snapped to the four other boys.
Getting his first ounce of luck in the game, everyone folded to the big blind and the game could move on to the next hand.
“Come on. Give me some luck,” Diaz pleaded.
As soon as the first card that was dealt to him, reached him, he snatched at it and to his relief found that he had the King of Clubs. Anxiously waiting for the second card, he again snatched at it and saw a second King, this time the King of Diamonds. Hiding his excitement at the hand, he waited until it was his turn and went all in, with only Francisco calling.
“My luck is about to change,” Raul said confidently.
Swiftly turning his cards over, he showed his pocket kings to the boys and this time Francisco shook his head as he revealed only a Ten of Hearts and a Six of Clubs, prompting a large smile from the young Raul Diaz.
“Just hold up and I’m back in the swing of things,” he beamed.
Slowly Antonio dealt each card out, one by one, first revealing the King of Hearts.
“YES! Three fucking kings,” Diaz exclaimed.
The King was then followed by the Seven of Clubs and the Nine of Diamonds to complete the flop and leaving Raul in the lead with three kings but Francisco only needed an eight to complete his gut shot straight.
“Get me the fourth king,” Raul willed the cards.
Antonio dealt the turn card, and to Raul’s relief it was just a Two of Spades. Next, was the river card, and it was almost in slow motion as the card flipped over, revealing itself to be an Eight of Spades and completing Francisco’s straight and knocking out Raul, from the little tournament they were having.
“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” shrieked Diaz.
Raking the chips in, Francisco grinned.
“Better luck next time, huh?”
Raul sighed.
“Yeah, next time. And the time after that and the time after that. Until I get it right,”
SATURDAY 17TH FEBRUARY 1996
Several hands had passed and only three people remained in this cash game, where the stakes were getting alarmingly high. Mickey had drunk all of his Guinness’s and was far too drunk to carry on playing, so was laying flat out on the ground snoring loudly.
“Who’s deal is it?” Raul asked.
With his large hands clasping the cards, Tiny started to shuffle them like a professional dealer, while Elvis and Monroe watched on, despite being out of money to continue to play.
“Now that Elvis is out, we’ll up the blinds to five-hundred and seven-hundred and fifty dollars,” remarked Tiny.
The suavely dressed man simply nodded his head before lowering his dark sunglasses back over his eyes. Raul, however, looked concerned at the high amounts being played for.
“I think that might be too rich for me,” he said nervously.
Shaking his head, Elvis was clearly unhappy at his comment, while Monroe stayed silent, Tiny just dealt the cards.
“I said it’s too rich for me,” stated the young Mexican.
Picking up what must have been at least five-thousand dollars, Raul attempted to stand up, only to be pushed back down by the silent man.
“You keep playing until we’re out of money or you’re out of money. Only one man leaves with everything tonight. Or are you just a little boy?” Tiny warned him, as he looked at his cards.
Gulping, Raul knew that he’d best stay seated and play.
“I’ll raise one-thousand dollars,” said Tiny, throwing in ten, one-hundred dollar bills.
Peeking and seeing the Ace of Clubs and Four of Spades, Raul tossed his hand away, with the Ace getting revealed as he did so, prompting an icy stare from the old man of the table, Monroe.
“Are you throwing this game away?” asked Tiny.
Shaking his head, Raul was mustering up enough courage to answer the question, in an increasingly hostile room.
“I had a bad feeling about the hand,” he said, gingerly.
The silent man didn’t seem to care and simply called the raise. This action had taken Tiny’s attention away from Raul, and he dealt the flop, showing the Nine of Diamonds, King of Hearts and Ten of Hearts. These cards had vindicated Raul’s decision to fold, and left him feeling momentarily relieved.
“Lucky break kid,” Elvis calmly remarked.
Having played in a tough room for near seven hours, Raul was sweating profusely and desperately wanted to exit the intimidating environment he had found himself in. After seeing Tiny win the hand at the flop, it was now his turn to deal, which he promptly did after a little shuffling.
“I call,” he said.
The man to his left also called, prompting a large grin from Tiny.
“I’ll raise all that I have here. Four-thousand dollars,” he confidently stated.
Pondering his cards, and pot odds, Raul used his own judgement and growing fear of those in the room, to call the large raise, leaving him with around one-thousand dollars back. The well dressed man quickly folded.
“Lets see what you have, kid,” Tiny beamed.
Turning his cards over slowly, Raul revealed pocket fours, the Four of Clubs and the Four of Diamonds. Tiny had every reason to be confident as he arrogantly displayed his pocket aces, the Ace of Hearts and the Ace of Spades.
“Hopefully I’ll get lucky,” Raul muttered.
Dealing the cards out, the flop showed the Four of Hearts, King of Clubs and Four of Spades. Irate, Tiny slammed his fist down on the table.
“CHEATER!” he yelled.
Slowly inching the money in, Raul tried not to antagonise him.
“YOU HARDLY SHUFFLED, AND YOU CALLED WITH JUST FOURS! NOBODY DOES THAT, NOBODY! YOU CHEATER! YOU, YOU, YOU MEXICAN DEVIL!” he screamed as he climbed to his feet.
Placing the money in his wallet, Raul fell backwards off of his chair and luckily avoided cracking his head, but unluckily for him the 400lb Tiny was standing over him, ready to give him a beating.
“I didn’t cheat,” Raul begged to be let out.
Closing his eyes, the young Mexican didn’t want to see the beating he was about to endure, but as the seconds ticked away he hadn’t been hit. Cautiously he opened his eyes, and the sight he saw was that of the silent man having Tiny backed against a wall before delivering a quick punch to his jaw, flooring the large Italian-American.
“Leave me alone,” remarked the seventy-four year old Monroe, “I don’t care what happens, just leave me alone,”
Not as fearful, Elvis charged the man, only to get a painful kick to the ribs and a hand around the throat forcing him to the ground and holding on for a few moments to choke some sense into him.
“I’m out of here,” Raul whispered as he clambered to his feet.
The suavely dressed man stopped Raul in his tracks and led him out of the room through a back door that Diaz had not known about.
“Who are you?” queried Raul.
Frustrated by the question, the man slammed Raul hard into a wall, pulled his sunglasses onto his head and stared at him, with his piercing blue eyes.
“That’s not important right now. We have to get out of here,”
Fearful for his safety in an area he was not familiar with, and hearing the footsteps of Tiny and his men just behind them, Raul had little choice but to follow the mysterious figure, with no idea of what this man was leading him into.