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#225 – WSOP #71 – Viva Los Muertos – Part IV (Conclusion)
ENTER THE BARRACUDA
At 1 AM, when the razz event was down to two tables, The Suits arrived. Several Harrah’s executives in suits and ties entered the Amazon Room, led by Jeffrey Pollack. They were accompanied by several lawyers.
This group had a mission: get Paul “Eskimo” Clark to sign a medical release. Maybe it’s my lawyer background but this seemed completely reasonable. There was a rumor when Clark collapsed the week before in the tent that he was going to sue Harrah’s for cruel and unusual punishment. I have no basis for believing the rumor but it was clearly Clark’s responsibility to continue playing despite the risks and I can’t blame Harrah’s for wanting to make that clear to him.
Harrah’s, incidentally, had stopped play and called a dinner break when Paul was on the floor. Back in 1999 at the Horseshoe, when it looked like Ross Lichen was having a heart attack, the tournament director told him the next break was in twenty-four minutes. I heard players complaining about stopping the tournament for Paul, so Harrah’s can’t be accused of being insensitive, at least relatively speaking.
It did, however, look funny seeing a squadron of Central Casting-style lawyers in suits and ties, carrying briefcases, marching into the Amazon Room in the middle of the night.
The legal team immediately ran into an unanticipated snag. If Eskimo Clark wouldn’t leave the table to visit a doctor, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave to visit a lawyer, much less a swarm of them. While Clark played – how well I can’t say, though I saw one hand where he listlessly called a bet on seventh street and appeared to muck his cards before seeing what his opponent had – he left the business of negotiating to his representative.
That would be The Barracuda.
“Every calls me ‘The Barracuda,” the man said. Though the moniker implies the kind of qualifications that would fit in with Harrah’s school of legal sharks, he didn’t look the part. The Barracuda wore a NASCAR hat and his Air National Guard tee shirt showed off a variety of tattoos on both arms.
“I’m not the enemy,” he explained. “I’ve been babysitting him for a week and a half, trying to get him to go to the doctor, take his medicine, and take care of himself.”
The Barracuda worked out the details of release with Harrah’s and Eskimo assented to leave the table long enough to sign it. Their business completed, the executives and their lawyers disappeared from the room.
In fact, I never saw another sign of the medical equipment or personnel that had been on stand-by earlier in the evening. And the phalanx of security guards on alert were gone, too … except for the one looking over my shoulder as I wrote these notes.
LIFE AFTER NEAR-DEATH
With this corner of the Amazon Room having gone litigation-conscious and the heat looking over my shoulder, I decided to watch from my computer, where what I watch and record is safe from prying eyes, at least for now. Because I became wrapped up in Phil Hellmuth’s bizarre final table, followed by a bizarre interview of Phil, followed by a mad dash 300 miles home, I didn’t get to see much of the razz final table.
Phil Hellmuth – Phil fought valiantly at the final table with a short stack and few good cards. But, as I pointed out in #181 – WSOP #30 – “Phil Hellmuth is $35,000 Underwater,” he earned $74,000 for finishing sixth but was a net loser of $35,000. Every time he got all-in with the best of it, he would buy insurance from Phil Ivey, who was watching the final table. By the end of the day, he owed Ivey $109,000.
None of that made interviewing him for the article afterwards a picnic. Though he was nice enough to give me all the time I needed and answered every question fully, even the ones involving details of his poker strategy, he insisted the interview be videotaped for his video blog. And he would periodically utter non-sequiturs like, “Face it; I’m living the rock star’s life!”
O’Neil – I was sure O’Neil Longson was going to run away with the razz championship. He had three bracelets, including the razz two years ago. He bulldozed his way to the final table with a big chip lead. And he also had a secret weapon.
I talked with Ted Forrest about Longson dozing off at the table. When I explained it happening at the 2005 razz final table and how he looked like he was ready for a jog after winning, Ted said, “Well, sure. He’s the only one at that table who got a decent night’s sleep.” Nolan Dalla thinks Longson has an advantage most people overlook. “I’m convinced that’s when he gets his sleep at the Series – between hands. It frees up all his other time.”
But he ran into an unstoppable force and finished third.
The Valkyrie – The 2007 razz champion is Katja Thater. It was Katja’s first bracelet, coming just a week after making the final table of the ladies event. Thater is a striking, attractive woman who, fighting her way to the top of this heap, looked like she could not only outplay the competition but outfight it.
Eskimo – There is an expression with which I’m sure you are familiar:
“Better one day a lion than a hundred years a lamb.”
Thanks to Al Alvarez, we know this Hemingway quote was a favorite of Jack Straus. When Staus killed a lion on safari, he had a paw mounted and bronzed with that expression. Alvarez attributed the quote to Hemingway but many others take (or receive) credit for it. I have seen it described as an Italian proverb, a Roman proverb, and a Tibetan proverb. It has been attributed to Mussolini and even John Gotti.
But we all know what it means: there is a premium on living your life as you choose and venturing forward, regardless of risk.
Paul “Eskimo” Clark finished fourth in the razz event. The fourth place money or finish probably won’t make a difference in his bank account or the estimation of his ability. Nevertheless, I still believe me made the right decision for himself to keep playing despite the pain and the risk of aggravating his health.
I saw Clark in the tournament room at the Orleans Open in late July. He was clutching his abdomen and seemed to be in some distress. It looked like he was asking other players to help him diagnose what was wrong.
I wanted to tell Eskimo that I admired him for living his life as he wanted, even when it could endanger his life and even though a lot of people thought it reckless and foolhardy. I also wanted to tell him that it was probably time, now that the Series was behind him, to decide to make some changes for the sake of his long-term health.
But I don’t really know him well and it felt awkward. So instead I said nothing.
