Heros. War heroes. Sports heroes. Childhood heroes.
Your Dad. Your Grandmum. Fifth grade teacher. Audie Murphy. Muhammad Ali.
What transforms a person into a hero can range from a single defining moment at the three point line on a basketball court to a life time of example in a classroom. From self sacrifice on the battlefield to a helping hand after a skinned knee.
I’ve been mulling this over the last couple of days after watching an installment of High Stakes Poker. This program pits members of the poker “elite” against each other in a cash game of no-limit holdem where hundreds of thousands of dollars are risked on a flip of a card.
I enjoy this show because, from time to time, I feel I can actually learn a thing or two about the game. Plus it’s entertaining when the mix of players spawns a healthy level of banter and ego skewering.
So, where is she going with this hero notion? Heroes and poker?
Well, sorta. The season four opener of HSP had Phil Hellmuth at the table. I’ve run hot and cold in my opinion of Phil. No doubt about it, he’s a master at tournament poker. I certainly wouldn’t want to have him staring at me across the felt. But, he’s also a severely insecure child who uses an entire erector set of bravado to support his over-inflated ego.
Phil disappoints me and there was no greater example of why than during HSP this week. The group had agreed to play seven-deuce (have they not heard – it’s the hammer?). In this version, if a player takes down a pot with the hammer the other players pay him $500.
The second hand in, Phil is dealt the hammer. Phil committed to it and played it against Mike Matusow who was holding pocket kings. Phil controlled the hand all the way – playing it as though he had the nuts. Finally on the river, he fired his last bullet and sent Matusow into a mental frenzy.
Phil knew that Mike knew that he wouldn’t be betting the river without the nuts. Mike didn’t make the step up to the next level of deduction and ended up folding his kings. Phil showed his seven-deuce and was paid $500 each from the players along with huge pot.
It was a great hand. For about fifteen seconds, I was in awe of Phil – and so was most of the table on the screen. That is until he opened his mouth and began spewing his “I’m the greatest player in the world” garbage. The moment of respect and awe I felt dissipated faster than a drop of rain on a hot August sidewalk.
Hence my disappointment. I want a player as adept and talented as Phil Hellmuth to be a hero. I want to look up to him, be inspired by him. I want to respect him as a representative of the game I love so much.
But I can’t. I find that each time he opens his mouth, I’m more and more frustrated. Sadly, though, he’s not alone. He’s just one of several of the poker “elite” who, like him, use their flash and dash to mask a blemished visage of insecurity and all I want to say is “grow up, woudja’?”
But then, I suppose High Stakes Poker wouldn’t be as entertaining as it is if they did, huh…
I, too, have wanted to respect Phil, but his attitude and antics have become unbearable in the last couple of years. He makes me want to change the channel with his stupid, constant yapping. I hate to see him at the table these days.
I feel sorry for him. He seems so delusional.
I think he’s an excellent player, but his accomplishments are clouded so heavily by his arrogance. He must be so radically insecure to constantly need to publicly affirm his ‘greatness’. It must be sad to live with such a low sense of self-worth.