So, I met him. I met The Man Who Won’t Shut Up.

I met The Man Who Won’t Shut Up at a $400 tournament at The MGM on Sunday.

For short I’ll call him TMWWSU which rolls right off the tongue and I think is kinder alternative to calling him CLTIVD (Chronic long-term incurable verbal diarrhea).

I admit it. He got to me.

I try real hard not to let that happen to me at the poker table, but on this day, it did.

And I don’t believe his incessant nattering was an angle to provoke bad play either. I don’t think it was an act. I mean, I do know a little bit about acting, after all.

But maybe I’m wrong. If so, all credit to him.

Mid-fifties, paunchy, tanned, country-club type. From Florida (where else?!)

Picture a little bit of George H. W. Bush, a little George W. Bush, a little Jeb Bush, and a whole lot of Anheuser-Busch, and you’ve got the guy.

The agonizing analysis before and after every hand, the dad jokes between hands, the embarrassing flirtations with the female dealers, the “bro-ing” with the male dealers, the fist-pumping with the players immediately to his left and right, his savvy investments, his new condo, his hot wife (she came by – not that hot), the quality of the food on the plane, the quality of the booze on the plane, the quality of the stewardess’s ass on the plane, honestly it just never ended. It was a poker filibuster.

I reached my limit with this guy so fast.

At the first break I called my poker partner/mentor/analyst, Domenic, in Toronto and told him that either me or this guy was leaving the tournament in the next half hour. Dom rationally tried to talk me out of that tree, but I was having none of it.

We both started the next level with about 80K, which were the two biggest stacks at the table at the time. Blinds are 500/1000.

On his first BB I raise to 3100 from the LoJack (middle position) with 79 of spades and get three callers including TMWWSU.

The flop comes 753 with two spades. A beauty flop for me, top pair and a flush draw. And there’s no way for anyone to put me on this particular hand having raised from middle position. I bet 4K hoping for callers. It folds around to TMWWSU who raises to 15K. Interesting.

I can’t put him on an over-pair or he would’ve raised preflop from the BB. Maybe he’s got A7? Maybe 46 for a flopped straight? No. I don’t see it. Nah. He’s on a flush draw and he’s put me on AK and he’s trying to take it down.

I figure, let’s go.

I shove my entire stack. He tanks. He is completely sure I have Aces and he says as much. He never stops talking. He probes me for information but I’m a statue. He never stops talking. He counts and recounts his chips. HE NEVER STOPS TALKING.

And then… finally… he calls. He turns over JJ.

Oops.

Guess I misread that one.

Still, I have so many outs. Any spade, any seven, any nine, a backdoor straight draw. Get out your poker calculator and you’ll see that I am actually ahead here, my odds being 50.71% to win the hand at this point.

Apparently, the turn and the river didn’t get the memo, though.

No help. And I’m out of the tournament.

And all because I didn’t want to listen to this pontificating dipshit anymore.

And that pretty much set the tone for the next few days. I won’t bore you with bad beat/bad luck stories. I did have way more than my share of those but suffice to say, I coulda played better too.

So there.

But the great thing… the most important thing… look what I got to come home to.

Take that you verbose clown. Not to sink to your level but… my wife is so much hotter than yours.

And your dog’s a lemon.