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Posted by Editor | Filed under 2010 WSOP, Mike Matusow, Ted Forrest, Weight Loss

At this point, I admit that I became too close to a story that was already making me feel uncomfortable. Apart from my shock at Ted Forrest’s appearance, I was now helping him hunt down Mike Matusow. On the one hand, Mike’s a friend, Ted and Mike were friends, and I’d done such errands before. On the other, Matusow now owed Forrest two million dollars. If Ted was willing to go to such extreme measures, who knew what Mike – clearly and publicly profoundly depressed over both the possibility he would (a) owe Ted Forrest two million dollars, and (b) be responsible for Forrest’s death – would do? He already backed out of the televised weigh-in.

Yet, there I was, leading Ted Forrest, his girlfriend, and a martial arts expert to his house. Not only that, I was responsible for what would, under most common-law definitions, criminally be called “trespass” or “breaking and entering.” In some states – there was no opportunity for me to research Nevada law during the drive over – Mike Matusow would be justified in shooting us on sight. And I was the first one through the door.

But come on, this is Mike Matusow we’re talking about, right? He’s not shooting anyone, right? I committed exactly this form of trespass back in 2006 and the end result of that was Matusow winning the Tournament of Champions. I did exactly the same thing in 2007 and that led to us completing a chapter of the Strategy Guide and, incidentally, my meeting Sam Grizzle and becoming his designated driver for the night. (I will try to conclude this story with a series of “flashbacks” to my prior adventures with Mike and Ted, but no promises for now.)

And Ted Forrest was desperate for the bet to end. He was pouring water into his mouth, swishing it around, and spitting it on the sidewalk behind me. His overall appearance, though he seemed in adequate health, was so disconcerting that I was willing to do almost anything to affect an improvement in his condition.

After ringing the doorbell, which didn’t work, and knocking on the door, which drew no response, I opened Mike’s front door and called upstairs. “Mike? Matusow? It’s Michael Craig, are you here?” I was a little apprehensive, both because of the technically criminal nature of my entrance, and the fact that one time when I entered exactly the same way, I startled Sam Grizzle, who was sleeping on the couch.

I walked in, and upon hearing Matusow’s sleepy voice, identified myself again. A tall, lean fellow with neat, graying hear and a neat, graying mustache, leaned over the rail from upstairs. To him and Matusow (still unseen), I again identified myself, and said I was here with Ted Forrest. “He needs you to certify the end of the bet, Mike.”

Mike and the Tall Man said we could come up.

Entering Matusow’s bedroom, I was again on familiar, though not necessarily comfortable terrain. It was dark in his bedroom, Matusow engaging the poker player’s convention of keeping his house almost completely unlit. As he struggled to rouse himself under a thick grey comforter, I noticed his bed contained its usual inventory: water bottles, soda bottles, pill bottles, MacDonalds bag, laptop, telephones, and one of Mike’s giant cats.

I wish you could see the scene the moment finally opened his eyes. To me, it looked exactly like the picture of Lee Harvey Oswald, the moment he was shot by Jack Ruby in the basement of the Dallas Jail. Ted, in the role of Ruby to Mike’s Oswald, hangs over his bed, his face a death’s-head mask. He desperately shakes, not a gun, but a water bottle. Mike Santoro and the Tall Man, like reporters in the hallway of the Dallas Jail, stand there stunned, mouths agape.

[I have a picture of the scene, but I’d really like Mike Matusow’s permission before I share it.]

Mike is struggling to understand what Ted is saying, a task made more difficult by Ted’s voice registering higher than usual and cracking.

“Ted?” Mike said as he struggled to sit up. “You look like shit.”

“I already weighed in at the Rio for ESPN,” Forrest calmly explained. “I won the bet. Are you going to insist that we go to the Las Vegas Athletic Club to do this on a gym scale? Because if so, then get out of bath and let’s go. I want to be able to take a drink of water. Or we can use your scale if you want.” Santoro and I chimed in, confirming that Ted made weight and encouraging Mike to declare the bet over. Matusow muttered something about a scale in his laundry room. Ted, the Tall Man, Santoro, and I quickly exited the room and walked back downstairs.

As we heard Mike rise from his bed, Shauna and Pui scurried after us. Ted, quickly stripping to his shorts, calling for Matusow all the while to come down and witness, stepped on the filthy, worn scale.

137 ½.

The Tall Man confirmed it, and a moment later, Mike Matusow crowded into the laundry room and declared that Ted Forrest had, indeed, made the weight specified in the bet.

Ted celebrated by finishing the bottle of water he was holding in his hand, and accepting the water bottle I held a moment later. As he drank that and we wandered toward the kitchen and family room – both dark – Forrest asked, “Do you have any mangos?”

Matusow was still stunned by the surreal scene. Not only was he just waking up, and just coming to terms with being stuck two million dollars, but his mind struggled to process that the person in front of him was actually William Edward Forrest. “You look terrible Ted. Please be careful. You could still die from this.”

Ignoring him, Ted walked to Mike’s refrigerator and opened it up, scanning for mangos or anything mango-like. A moment later, he announced something I would have bet the whole two million on: “Mike, you have no food in your house.”

A minute later, we were gone. Matusow continued to issue warnings to Forrest to be careful. Forrest continued to insist that he knew a lot about fasting, and ending fasts. (I have many, many Ted Forrest-fasting stories, which I will try to recount if I provide a Flashbacks addendum to this story.)

As Mike said good-bye to us all, he put his arm around Ted. “I got another bet for you ….” As they both dissolved into uneasy laughter, Matusow said, “I bet you a million dollars you can’t weigh more than I weigh right now.” [That’s about 205 pounds.]

He quickly clarified that he was only kidding. “No, I don’t want to bet you. I care about you, Ted. And THAT would REALLY kill you.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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8 Responses to “Forrest & Matusow Meet at the Gates of Hell – #1114 – 2010 WSOP #95”

1. sillymoi Says:
   July 14th, 2010 at 9:25 pm

   There seems to be a lot of money spent on bets by the poker pros… interesting story.
   ftp: sillymoi

2. Montana Mike Says:
   July 15th, 2010 at 12:04 am

   So let us know how/if Mike ever pays! (Is Mike giving up his % of Full Tilt Checks?)

   Degenerates! Why make “hero’s” out of them? You are just as whacked as they are!

   I “retired” from poker and own this! Something those morons have no idea how to do!

3. Anonymous Says:
   July 18th, 2010 at 5:57 am

   funny he bet 2 mil i was just playing w/ a guy who “claimed to be MM and had his avatar” a few weeks ago and he was complaining about losing his last .10 cents in a .10 cent tourny lmao

4. Scott Matusow Says:
   August 2nd, 2010 at 2:39 am

   What exactly Mike did you do in 2006 to help Mike win the TOC? HE WON in 2005. Also, you are flat lying about “Hunting Mike down” I was talking to my brother on windows live, and he was fully expecting you guys to come over, because He told me. Furthermore, it is apparent since Mike went with another writer to write his book instead of you, u have sour grapes, and u are making up lies about Mike. Furthermore, I beleive Ted cheated, but since Mike would not enforce the agreed upon drug testing, what I beleive is moot, Ted wins fair and square. But this kind of nonsense you are posting, I personally call you out. again, in 2006, Mike did not win the toc, shoody writing on your part Mike. However, I do invite you on my show if u want to clarify this garbage at http://www.makepokerlegal.com/radio

   Scott: I’m e-mailing you in response, and I just posted a response to your comment (along with your comment itself) in the blog. http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/2010/08/scott-matusow-strikes-back-the-further-chronicles-of-the-forrest-matusow-weight-loss-bet-1126.php
   MC

5. Make Poker Legal Says:
   August 2nd, 2010 at 3:13 am

   This guy is full of poop. Here the real story and rebuttal at http://makepokerlegal.com/blog/2010/08/01/michael-craig-is-full-of-poop-concerning-brothers-bet-with-ted-forrest/

   And here’s the REAL real story and rebuttal: http://www.fulltiltpoker.com/poker-blog/2010/08/scott-matusow-strikes-back-the-further-chronicles-of-the-forrest-matusow-weight-loss-bet-1126.php
   MC

6. AAs to Mouth Says:
   August 2nd, 2010 at 3:30 am

   You really broke into Mike’s house? wow and then you write about it? isn’t that like legal and then you are admitting to it…

7. Make Poker Legal Says:
   August 2nd, 2010 at 3:30 am

   Calling you out on the lies Michael, http://www.makepokerlegal.com/radio were giving you a chance to speak your mind on this. Even though your blog here is a bunch of lies!

8. Six9 Says:
   August 2nd, 2010 at 3:35 am

   SCOTT MATUSOW RESPONDS TO CRAIGS BLOG HERE
   http://makepokerlegal.com/blog/2010/08/01/michael-craig-is-full-of-poop-concerning-brothers-bet-with-ted-forrest/

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