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Ever heard someone refer to “playing the game the right way"?
I’m not talking about making the correct mathematical decisions here. I mean, sure, skill is a big part of the "right" equation, but the reality is no one's going to be debating your place in the poker world too heatedly if you're barely beating the local $2/$4. No, this is about more than playing the cards.
This is about being a human being; this is about respecting the game and your opposition; this is about behaving the same way whether your're at a home game or on the World Series of Poker stage; this is about playing in a way that wouldn't have gotten you shot by an angry loser if you were playing thirty years ago.
Televised poker, love it as I do, has caused some of us to forget how to play the game the right way. Buffoonery is profi table, both for practitioners and producers, and the almighty dollar sometimes leaves the most skilled players behind. While I’m all for entertainment and have certainly been known to cackle at a Hellmuthian meltdown, a self-infl icted Mouth implosion, or even a shark attack, I can’t help but wish for a more even playing fi eld as TV time goes. People are forgetting the purity of real life poker in the face of its more entertaining cousin on TV. I’d rather celebrate the most skilled amongst us.
What do you know about Erik Seidel? — You know he lost the 1988 WSOP to Johnny Chan, thanks to television’s big Hollywood brother. — You know he was the most vocal holdout on sharing his hole cards with the lipstick cameras. Television. — You know he’s a Full Tilt Poker guy. Television again.
Did you know, though, that he’s tied for fourth all-time in WSOP bracelets with eight? He won the last of them at this year’s WSOP and no one even fl inched. Granted, it was on the eve of the Main Event and the world was frenzied, but we’re talking about one hell of an achievement here. I mean, the man moved into a tie with Johnny freakin’ Moss here, people, and he did it against monumentally larger fi elds. You probably didn’t know that.
Did you know that Seidel got his revenge on Chan? Everyone knows Johnny beat Erik in 1988, but few remember Seidel taking down Chan heads up for a bracelet thirteen years later. Few remember that Chan started that duel with better than a 2:1 chip advantage and that Seidel more or less outplayed the two-time world champion to set things right in his world. You probably didn’t know that.
Did you know that when Allen Cunningham won a bracelet for the third year in a row in 2007, that Seidel was the last man to accomplish the feat? Erik did that remarkable deed from 1992-’94. Until Cunningham, he was the only man to put together that kind of run since the seventies. You probably didn’t know that.
Seidel’s curse as a televised poker entity is that he’s a quiet man who exists without pretense. He’ll speak when spoken to, but he addresses the player, not the camera. He keeps his voice quiet, his movements to a minimum. I guess the logic is “that doesn’t make for great TV.” My logic says that greatness should always make for great TV.
I had the pleasure of interviewing Seidel during a podcast on roundersradio.com this past January. When confronted with the question of the relative anonymity of his remarkable accomplishments, he took his usual calm, refl ective approach to the matter. “There are people who maybe get too much attention, but i don't feel like I get too little attention. The game has become about entertainment and camera time. Some of these people have done a good job of building themselves up, despite not having great records at the table. Good for them.”
Good for them indeed, but at what cost? The people in question, who Seidel wouldn’t go so far as to name, haven’t paid their dues… haven’t played for over twenty years. Of course, they get their comeuppance in the end; they keep on losing and he keeps on winning. Some things are right with the world after all.
Seidel is a true game player. He doesn't write about games or work hard to sell them; he just plays. His lack of appreciation for the extracurricular aspects of gaming success became an issue when one of his early gaming loves – backgammon lost popularity with its wealthier fi sh. “It got to point where backgammon - became more of a hustler’s game,” he told author Michael Kaplan for the latter’s Aces and Kings. “You had to be able to fi nd live ones and create an atmosphere that was fun for them. i was only good at playing, not so good at the schmoozing.”
With backgammon drying up, Seidel plunged headlong into another kind of game, becoming a Wall Street stockbroker until losing most of his savings on Black Monday, the worst day the market has seen in the last seventy years. Suddenly uncertain about his future with a new wife and child-to-be to support, Seidel took refuge in New York’s famous Mayfair Club, a haven for players of backgammon, poker, and every game in between.
The Mayfair offered Seidel the best poker education he could hope for. Through the tutelage of such Mayfair masters as Dan Harrington, Billy Horan, Noli Francisco, Sonny Mendoza, Mayfair Jerry, and one of his closest friends to this day, Howard Lederer. It was Lederer who in 1987 had become the youngest player ever to make the final table of the WSOP Main Event - who finally convinced Seidel to company him to the 1988 WSOP after Erik enjoyed a particularly profi table May that year. The trip would change Seidel’s life.
Everyone remembers Seidel’s loss to Johnny Chan, but the $280,000 he won for his second place fi nish is forgotten. Just as important as the money was the realization his success brought with it.
“I remember there was a point on Day 2 when I thought, ‘Wow, a lot of these people are just kind of playing ABC and there’s stuff to be done here. There are some things I can do to expose the way people are playing.’ I remember how exciting that moment was, thinking ‘Hey, I can actually play here!’ Before that day, I didn’t have a sense of whether I’d be able to compete at this level, I remember it was pretty… that particular day was very exciting, especially since I played with some people I’d heard of. I remember thinking ‘Yeah, you know, I can play fi ne around these guys.’”
So was born a poker legend. Seidel used his unknown status to his advantage, playing aggressive poker before all the players read books saying they were supposed to do so. While that aggression ultimately cost him that fi nal hand against Chan, it’s also what got Seidel to that point in the fi rst place, outplaying the majority of a strong fi nal table en route to his second-place fi nish.
His confi dence bolstered by his WSOP success, Seidel never looked back. A month later, he won $144,000 in the $1,000 buy-in, 4th Annual Diamond Jim Brady at the Bicycle Casino in Los Angeles, defeating Phil Hellmuth in the fi nal. He’s been one of the most respected and consistent performers in the game ever since.
As amazing as Seidel’s play has been, his love for the game is equal to it. “Even now, I still feel like I’m partly a fan because I fi nd myself admiring some of the accomplishments of the players. For me, it’s fun to watch history happen. To see the whole thing with Phil, Doyle, and Chan, with Phil winning his eleventh, it was really cool. It’s just cool to be a part of this world and watch this stuff happen. You can’t help but respect the gifts some of these people have.”
There’s irony in the way he says that. It’s a statement made in the voice of a man on the outside looking in, as if he doesn’t realize he’s as much a part of that history as those men. He’s tied with Moss, just two bracelets behind Brunson and Chan, and still going strong with four WSOP wins in this decade. With a strong showing over the next year or two, he joins that conversation.
Get him talking about the game and he’ll sing its virtues. He’ll tell you about his affection for a 73-year old Doyle Brunson playing as well as anyone in the world. He’ll tell you about how those players whose bark outshines the bite will fi nd their painful realities at the table. He’ll tell you how much he still adores and admires the people who play the game the right way.
Asked to name the players he respects the most, Seidel’s choices mirror his example. Allen Cunningham, John Juanda, John Hennigan… quiet men who don’t do the histrionics. They come, they sit, they play. Of course, ask any one of them to name the players they respect most, chances are that Seidel’s name will be amongst the answers. Why? Simple: He plays the game the right way — with honor, with skill, with class. It’s an example I wish we could see more of.
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