The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King

by Michael Craig

  It was almost noon when Andy Beal reached Doyle Brunson on Monday, May 10, 2004. He asked Brunson if the pros would play him in a really big game, “fifty-and-one-hundred, or one-and-two-hundred.”

  Brunson said, “Come on out.”

  Andy and Craig had already made their plans. They would be in Las Vegas by three.

  Andy Beal had not given up on poker, nor had his losses hurt him financially. In fact, Beal Bank was having trouble finding things to do with all the money it was making. In a month and a half, its 2004 fiscal year would end, and it would report record net income of $282 million. In the post-Enron/WorldCom environment, reported earnings were always taken with some skepticism, especially because few people had the patience to comb through the details of financial reports. One bottom line, however, would put to rest any doubt about who could afford to lose more money playing poker, Andy or the group: Beal Bank paid cash dividends in fiscal 2004 of over $148 million.

  He had even gone back to Las Vegas to play poker after losing to Todd Brunson the previous October. Less than a month later, he received a call from someone who wanted to back Johnny Chan, the two-time World Champion, against Beal heads up. Among the top pros and Vegas locals, Chan was a confusing package: phenomenally wealthy or apparently broke, a constant presence or mysteriously absent, patient and talented or impulsive and bored, kind and friendly or cold and angry. To the outside world, his legend transcended the current poker boom. He won the main event of the World Series of Poker twice in a row, then finished second the following year. He stroked a lucky orange for luck during his victories. His brilliant trap of Erik Seidel on the final hand of the 1988 Series was immortalized a decade later in the movie Rounders.

  In November, Beal played Chan for three days and beat him. Like all stories about Johnny Chan, it was shrouded in mystery. Beal would not disclose who called him, but he said he was ahead of Chan after three days in a close, competitive match. The amount of Beal’s win was probably under $500,000, and they played for stakes in the range of $10,000-$20,000 to $20,000-$40,000. They also played for a few hours on another occasion when Andy was in Vegas and Chan won that time.

  Playing Johnny Chan for three days and winning even a small amount was an impressive performance. Chan, like Doyle Brunson before him, developed his reputation as a no-limit player and was once considered an easier opponent at Limit Texas Hold ’Em. But in the current environment where limit hold ’em was by far the more common game—and the big mixed games required not only skill at all forms of poker but all forms of limit poker—Chan had obviously adapted. Furthermore, few players in the world brought more of an intimidating presence to the table than Johnny Chan. Only about five-five, Chan still could glower at opponents with unbelievable intensity and his gaze immediately communicated the impression that he saw everything.

  Beal also continued playing with Craig Singer and hosting talented amateurs at his office. One player he frequently matched up with for relatively high stakes was no amateur, though most people were not aware of his level of poker skill.

  In the mid-1970s, Gabe Kaplan was a hot stand-up comedian with a hit television show, Welcome Back, Kotter. In the past twenty years, he has performed only occasionally. He has been making a very good living based on his investing skill, as well as his poker skill. A longtime poker enthusiast, Kaplan has been a fixture at the World Series of Poker and other high-profile tournaments and high-stakes games in Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

  Other than the Table One pros, none of Andy’s opponents had played as much high-stakes poker against world-class competition as Gabe Kaplan. They played on several occasions. Beal even tried out—mostly with embarrassing failure—some new strategies against Kaplan. But he continued to test himself and his theories, and to learn.

  The delay between his October-November games and this May 2004 trip was primarily caused by business. Beal was especially busy, though, ironically, some of the bank’s business involved developing a bigger presence in Las Vegas. The bank was reincorporating some of its operations in Nevada. In addition, one of the bank’s projects involved participation in the loan syndicate financing Steve Wynn’s new casino-resort on the Las Vegas Strip.

  In early May, Andy saw an opening in his schedule and found out Craig Singer also had some time available. Maybe the time was right to take another shot at the poker pros. As usual, his timing was excellent.

  The poker world collectively held its breath at the start of the Thirty-fifth World Series of Poker. Could Harrah’s resuscitate the Horseshoe, shuttered since January? Even though they retained Binion’s tournament staff, could they stage the tournament on such little notice?

  The World Series exploded like a combination of Independence Day, New Year’s Eve, and Super Bowl Sunday. The first open event, $2,000 buy-in no-limit hold ’em, on Friday, April 23, drew 834 entries. Only the main event the year before had a larger field, and no other preliminary event in Series history had 450 competitors. In all, five preliminary hold ’em events in 2004 exceeded the previous record.

  The logistical problems were potentially enormous and unprecedented: having enough tables and dealers for over 800 players, running the conclusion of the previous day’s event, conducting one-table satellites and super-satellites, holding nightly second-chance tournaments, and offering side games. Poker players are exceptional for their ability to find things to complain about, but there were very few complaints under the circumstances. Everybody’s hobby/business/guilty pleasure was exploding on the public consciousness, and they were at the epicenter.

  Ted Forrest won the next event, $1,500 buy-in Seven Card Stud. The entries for the event rose 50 percent since 2003 and it would be the first non-hold-’em event televised as part of ESPN’s expanded package of coverage. It was Ted’s first World Series bracelet since the three he won in 1993, and another sign that his slump was over. Forrest had made changes in his life and had dug himself out of the hole. Finally, it seemed, he was going to be the lucky one.

  To the rest of the poker world, Forrest’s win was a signal the cash game pros were getting ready to take over tournament poker. Less than a week later, Chau Giang won the $2,000 buy-in Pot Limit Omaha event. On Friday, May 7, Barry Greenstein captured his first bracelet, winning the prestigious $5,000 buy-in No-Limit Deuce-to-Seven Championship. The final table also included Howard Lederer (who finished fourth), Chau (fifth), and Lyle Berman (seventh). The $296,000 first prize brought Barry’s charitable contributions to around $3 million in less than eighteen months.

  Andy Beal’s arrival re-created the stress and chaos of his previous visits. He had called Brunson on the second day of the $2,000 buy-in Omaha Hi/Lo event. Howard Lederer had been eliminated late the night before but he was away from the Bellagio to watch his sister Annie at the final table. Todd Brunson also made the final table.

  Annie Duke won the event, her first World Series bracelet and second significant tournament win, both of the year and of her career. (Many poker players, not recognizing her cross-over appeal to the non-poker world and the benefit it creates for everybody in poker, have resented the attention given to someone who had never won a World Series event. Rather than changing their tune, most now resent her for having won only one World Series event.) As with Jennifer Harman’s win in Limit Texas Hold ’Em two years earlier, the victory ironically came on the same day as the women’s-only event.

  Brunson had the usual problems rounding up the players on short notice. At least he could reach Todd and Howard during the Omaha final on their cell phones. He was having no luck with Ted Forrest. Forrest, who rarely acted impulsively or lost his temper, had gotten in a fight with his girlfriend and shut off his cell phone. On this one occasion, however, it cost him his place in the group.

  “If you don’t get your money down, you’re out.” That was the rule, and there were no exceptions. Brunson had too much trouble in the past letting players slide about posting their money, and he had made it clear that the rule was now inflexible. Just when F
orrest thought his luck had turned around, he was bounced from the biggest poker game in history.

  That assumed the game would even take place. When Andy came into the poker room, Brunson, Reese, and several others were playing and kibitzing around a game of Chinese Poker.

  Beal came prepared to negotiate over conditions for a $100,000-$200,000 game and start playing. He expected the group might try to talk the stakes down to $50,000-$100,000 to start.

  He was shocked by what he heard instead. Doyle Brunson told him the highest the group could play him was $20,000-$40,000.

  Andy was torn between ways of negotiating through this. Should he claim he was tricked into coming out because Doyle gave him the impression they would play him much higher? Or should he point out that it was unsporting to win all his money at stakes up to $50,000-$100,000 and not give him a chance to recoup at similar stakes?

  Instead, he let his feet do the talking. He told them he was going to the cashier’s cage to have his money shipped back to Texas, and then he walked out.

  A spirited discussion followed, the players speeding it along based on the likelihood they thought Beal would follow through. Was Beal bluffing? Would he really leave after flying from Dallas to play? If he thought $20,000-$40,000 was too small, weren’t they the only game in town? On the other hand, didn’t they still have an edge potentially worth millions? And he had lost on every trip, so maybe he had paid for the right to call some of the shots.

  Doyle finally decided the matter. “Okay, let’s play him fifty and a hundred.”

  He asked Marco Traniello to intercept Beal at the cage. Jennifer had been present for the discussion and Marco had brought his wife to the Bellagio that afternoon. If Marco went after Andy, none of the players would have to miss a hand.

  Married to the world’s highest-stakes female gambler, Marco had gradually become accustomed to the gambling life. Jennifer hadn’t really given him much choice. For the games with Andy Beal, they were part of the team no matter what. Although his life outside poker kept him grounded in the value of a dollar (or a hundred thousand dollars), he was becoming more comfortable inside the poker world. He was nervous, but less nervous than he used to be.

  Beal was already at the cage when Marco reached him.

  “Come on, Andy. Let’s go play.”

  Late Monday afternoon, Andy Beal started playing Chau Giang. Stakes were $50,000-$100,000. The composition of the team had changed since last year. Most of the players (except for Ted Forrest) from the original group were still in. A number of new players joined as they became part of the highest-stakes games, including Lee Salem, Gus Hansen, and Phil Ivey. There were at least fifteen members in the group this time, and several members had sold pieces to other players.

  Andy won $1.3 million before quitting at 10:00 P.M. He was trying to keep from tiring himself out.

  Beal had played with Craig Singer sitting behind him. Most of the group played at an adjoining table or milled around. Giang, playing deep into the night in several World Series events while still active in the side games, looked like he hadn’t slept since his last match with Andy the previous October. Gus Hansen, himself an ultra-aggressive player, thought Giang was playing Beal too conservatively. “My mother could beat Chau if he keeps playing like that.”

  Hansen wasn’t the only one critiquing Chau’s play. Each share in the group cost at least $500,000. At these stakes, in an aggressive heads-up match, that money could disappear fast. As high as everyone was playing in the side games, many players were stretched thin just taking that much of their bankroll out of play.

  All the players standing around or watching intently from the second game created a tense atmosphere. Barry Greenstein, who had devoted a lot of thought to the gambler’s image, disapproved. “It looks bad if we win, like we’re teaming up on him. And several people, I think it hurt their play to have other people watching them.”

  On the other hand, it was hard not to watch. The players could double (or lose) their investment in a flash. The stakes were so high that many members of the group would be seriously hurt by an Andy winning streak.

  Chip Reese, usually difficult to rile about anything, quickly lost patience with all the watching and criticizing. If so many people had a problem with how things were going, he suggested, they should just disband, take a hit of $100,000 apiece, let Beal have his win, and refuse to play him.

  Nobody wanted that. Complaining made many of the players feel like they got their $100,000 worth. Reese did not agree, but at least he made his point. When Howard Lederer played Beal on Tuesday, most of the players were gone.

  Lederer regained his mastery over Andy Beal. Howard won $6.3 million, putting the group ahead by $5 million. Nobody was panicking when Chau Giang lost on Monday; $1.3 million was not very much at these stakes. But the atmosphere was more tense than on Beal’s previous trips. Lederer had them all breathing easier.

  Andy Beal wasn’t panicking either. He felt good about his game, but had to conclude that maybe Howard had his number. Andy had struggled against other members of the group at various times—Ted Forrest in 2001, Jennifer Harman during the 2003 World Series, Todd Brunson during both 2003 trips—but he felt Howard matched up against him differently. For example, he was awed by Todd’s gift for discovering and exploiting his weaknesses and lapses in play. But he could combat that by shoring up those weaknesses. Even if Todd continued to beat him, he felt there was always something he could do to improve. But against Lederer, he had no idea.

  If Andy did not have to play Howard Lederer again, he thought he could win. Because he was down $5 million, he needed to wire more money to the Bellagio. He used the break in the game to negotiate with Doyle Brunson and the other players in the group on Thursday afternoon and evening.

  Beal wanted to play the Big Game: $100,000-$200,000. He renewed his threat to leave if he didn’t get his way. With Lederer’s win, the pros had a taste of Beal’s money and were hungry for more. Concerns from just twenty-four hours earlier—scenarios with Andy winning $10 million in a day and potentially wiping them out by doing it a couple more times—seemed remote. Barry Greenstein had the strongest opinion of the players at the table, and he favored giving in to Beal.

  “We’re ahead of him, so we should take a shot at playing bigger. If we win, we could win a hundred million dollars.” To Barry, it was important that they had Beal’s money, so they should leverage it into a potential bonanza. He also felt Beal was entitled to call the stakes. “You beat a guy out of $30 million and you’re afraid to let him play for anything? That’s ridiculous.”

  Greenstein was either very persuasive or the only one with an accurate memory. Afterward, Brunson said that he turned over the leadership of the team because of his involvement in the biggest side games, which took place not at Table One much of the time, but at Sam’s Town or the Golden Nugget to accommodate Bobby Baldwin. Reese said later that he was not in favor of kicking up the stakes. Todd Brunson was playing in the Omaha Hi/Lo Championship downtown. (He was the last player eliminated that night, finishing tenth, but playing late into the evening.) Several others were playing in the event. Howard Lederer had left after playing Andy. Jennifer Harman was too sick to play.

  Perhaps the only sour note of the World Series was the deterioration of Jennifer’s health. By November, her doctors in San Francisco concluded that she would need a new kidney. For her blood type, the waiting list for a kidney was six years; she didn’t have six years. Fortunately, she was able to find a compatible donor in her family. She was scheduled for transplant surgery on May 24, Day Three of the main event of the World Series. She was supposed to check in at UCSF Medical Center the next Monday, May 17.

  Her situation was getting worse by the day. She had given up playing in high-stakes cash games; she just couldn’t maintain the focus needed with that much money on the line. She tried playing in some World Series events but it became increasingly difficult, and she had to give up even that after trying to play in the Deuce-to-Se
ven Championship won by Barry Greenstein the week before.

  Her face was becoming bloated and she was gaining weight. Her blood pressure shot up as high as 220/120. Other than visiting doctors and coming to the poker room to get her money down for the group the day before, she had done little but sit around her house, take endless medications, and call her father with instructions in case she died or suffered a stroke before making it to San Francisco. She also developed the flu, originally misdiagnosed as an allergy, further complicating her condition.

  The members of the group negotiating with Beal agreed to let him have his way. They would play $100,000-$200,000. Over the course of the evening, they agreed to the following additional conditions: (1) Andy would have to play two days at these stakes, at least five hours a day; (2) each side would bring at least $10 million to the table; (3) the pros could use only one player per day; and (4) Beal would not have to play Howard Lederer at these stakes.

  Andy Beal got everything he wanted. The group demanded that he play for two days, at least five hours a day, and bring at least $10 million to the table. But he wanted to do all those things. He believed that raising the stakes to $100,000-$200,000 would take the players out of their comfort zone, so he wanted them playing as long as possible at these stakes.

  He considered having gotten Howard out of the match to be important but even Beal didn’t realize how significant a concession that would be. Despite having at least fifteen members in the group, they were seriously short of players. With Ted Forrest not a part of the group and Jennifer too sick to play, the only players with a good record against Andy were Chau Giang, Todd Brunson, and Howard Lederer.

  Everybody in the group received a phone call Tuesday night, informing them of the new terms. Did they want to remain part of the group? When Jennifer Harman got the call, her immediate response was, “Who the fuck negotiated these kind of circumstances?” But she was still in, all the way, no matter what. In fact, no one dropped out.