Meeting A Caveman
We're publishing an interview this Sunday with Leif Force, the 11th place finisher in the 2006 Main Event. Those of you who follow poker closely enough recognize Leif as the young man with an uncanny resemblance to the caveman from the Geico commercials:
If you don’t recognize him, don’t feel bad. I didn’t either when running into him last month in a Las Vegas bowling alley.
After riding the beer train to Hammeredtown during dinner with friends, we decided to keep the good times rolling (hehe) at a 24-hour bowling alley. Only a week before this I threw a 300, so my drunken confidence (especially relative to bowling) was at an epic high.
While waiting for the old lady behind the counter to fetch our shoes, I overheard this cocky, confident blonde kid claim he once bowled 22 games in one day. I immediately intruded on his conversation and called bullshit. Even though I was drunk, obnoxious, and all over the place, he stayed pretty calm and just kept smiling at me and said “you don’t think I’ve ever bowled 22 games in a day before, huh? How about I bowl 22 games right now. I’ll do it in less than 2.5 hours, using a house ball, with a score of 150 or better each game.”
Bells and whistles and a little jumping gnome screaming “PROP BET! PROP BET!” started going off in my head. The little gnome told me to reach into my wallet, pull out all the cash I had, which was around $2,000, throw it on the table and say, “I’ll bet you whatever I have right there that you can’t.” Good idea, little gnome!
After doing so, the kid turned around and reached into a bag he had with him (“please don’t be a gun, please don’t be a gun,” said the little gnome, who had stopped jumping at this point) and pulled out what looked to be about $10,000. He said, “you don’t even know who you’re messing with, man, I’m a millionaire!” In any other city, some random guy with that much money would be shocking. In Las Vegas, it seemed fairly standard. Largely unaffected, I replied “ooooooh, Daddy gave you some money, I’m so impressed!”
That comment altered his zen-like disposition and put him on the defensive, “‘Daddy’ didn’t give me anything! I became a millionaire on my own!” I could tell I pushed a button, so I cooled off a little and told him, “okay man, it’s cool if your Dad gave you some money, you don’t have to yell.” Unsatisfied that I wasn’t convinced of his self-made status, he continued, “have you ever heard of a little thing called the World Series of Poker?!?”
The gnome in my head was doing cart-wheels after hearing that. First he claims he can bowl 22 games in 2.5 hours while throwing at least 150 each game (with a house ball, mind you) and now he claims he made a million dollars from the WSOP. I was all too happy to step back and let him bury himself even deeper when my friend Dave pulled me aside and said, “uhh, you know that’s a clean-cut Leif Force, right?”
Oops.
Leif Force won $1.1 million for finishing 11th in the 2006 Main Event. I wish I could say I was drunk enough to proclaim, “well big deal, you got lucky in one tournament!,” but I have to admit, I was a little star-struck, so I apologized for the “Daddy” comment.
My friend Michael intervened as the voice of sobriety on my behalf. Of course, this was not out of charity; Michael wanted some action of his own. Sober, drunk, or otherwise, it didn’t take a genius to know that getting even-money on a prop-bet of this nature is a rare treat from the gambling gods you’re not likely to stumble upon often.
So Michael throws me a few dollars and tells me to go buy some beers. I interpret this as a clue to disappear for a few minutes so as not to antagonize the situation beyond repair. After getting back from the bar with some Heinies (that’s douchebag-lingo for “Heineken”), I learn that we’ll have a $2,000 bet that Leif cannot bowl 22 games in 3.5 hours with a score of 140 or better each game. Michael catered to him by giving him an extra hour and ten pins per game from the original terms, but I didn’t care, because I still estimated his chance for success at under 2%. We told him to bowl a practice game while we went up to the counter to pre-pay for his games.
While at the desk, Michael and I watched Leif tally up a 34 through the first 5 frames in his practice game. Of course this made us cackle like jackasses and start giving each other high-fives over the free $1,000 each of us just earned. The old lady behind the counter overheard most of the negotiations of the bet and almost seemed thankful that we spiced up her night a little bit. You’re welcome, old lady.
As we walked down the alley to where Leif was, we realized he and his friend were rummaging through his purse (or whatever the thing was). We inquired what the problem was, and Leif told us that he lost his cell phone. Of course, my knee-jerk reaction was that he realized he was on the wrong side of a sucker-bet and is now using the ol’ “lost my cell phone” routine to get out of the bet.
Amidst all of this, a previously uninterested friend of ours, Imran, informed us that he remembered seeing an abandoned cell phone earlier. Imran said he left the phone where it was figuring its owner would return to claim it. Between Imran’s story and Leif’s seemingly-genuine concern regarding the whereabouts of his phone, I dismiss my theory that he was faking its disappearance.
Come to find out, Leif is no stranger to losing his phone in Las Vegas. Perhaps he should invest in a better purse? (OOOH, OUCH!)
Like madmen, Michael and I pitch in to help him locate his phone. To us, finding that thing is like finding $2,000, so even looking behind the toilets in the men’s (and women’s) restroom is not beyond us. After a half-hour scavenger hunt, it’s apparent that we’re not going to find his phone.
Ever the jackass, I coyly inquired, “so... ready to start bowling, then?” He was understandably a bit distracted from the bet. I thought he handled it really well though. He offered to flip a coin with us. Heads he does the bet right then and there, tails he’s off the hook.
Obv tails, bad beat, rigged prly.
We shook hands and exchanged phone numbers. Overall, Leif handled the situation nicely. He’s a good guy and seemed fun to hang out with.
And Leif, regarding the bowling bet, the offer is still on, anytime, anywhere. I’d also love to hear this story from your perspective, since mine was clouded with alcohol and testosterone.
If you don’t recognize him, don’t feel bad. I didn’t either when running into him last month in a Las Vegas bowling alley.
After riding the beer train to Hammeredtown during dinner with friends, we decided to keep the good times rolling (hehe) at a 24-hour bowling alley. Only a week before this I threw a 300, so my drunken confidence (especially relative to bowling) was at an epic high.
While waiting for the old lady behind the counter to fetch our shoes, I overheard this cocky, confident blonde kid claim he once bowled 22 games in one day. I immediately intruded on his conversation and called bullshit. Even though I was drunk, obnoxious, and all over the place, he stayed pretty calm and just kept smiling at me and said “you don’t think I’ve ever bowled 22 games in a day before, huh? How about I bowl 22 games right now. I’ll do it in less than 2.5 hours, using a house ball, with a score of 150 or better each game.”
Bells and whistles and a little jumping gnome screaming “PROP BET! PROP BET!” started going off in my head. The little gnome told me to reach into my wallet, pull out all the cash I had, which was around $2,000, throw it on the table and say, “I’ll bet you whatever I have right there that you can’t.” Good idea, little gnome!
After doing so, the kid turned around and reached into a bag he had with him (“please don’t be a gun, please don’t be a gun,” said the little gnome, who had stopped jumping at this point) and pulled out what looked to be about $10,000. He said, “you don’t even know who you’re messing with, man, I’m a millionaire!” In any other city, some random guy with that much money would be shocking. In Las Vegas, it seemed fairly standard. Largely unaffected, I replied “ooooooh, Daddy gave you some money, I’m so impressed!”
That comment altered his zen-like disposition and put him on the defensive, “‘Daddy’ didn’t give me anything! I became a millionaire on my own!” I could tell I pushed a button, so I cooled off a little and told him, “okay man, it’s cool if your Dad gave you some money, you don’t have to yell.” Unsatisfied that I wasn’t convinced of his self-made status, he continued, “have you ever heard of a little thing called the World Series of Poker?!?”
The gnome in my head was doing cart-wheels after hearing that. First he claims he can bowl 22 games in 2.5 hours while throwing at least 150 each game (with a house ball, mind you) and now he claims he made a million dollars from the WSOP. I was all too happy to step back and let him bury himself even deeper when my friend Dave pulled me aside and said, “uhh, you know that’s a clean-cut Leif Force, right?”
Oops.
Leif Force won $1.1 million for finishing 11th in the 2006 Main Event. I wish I could say I was drunk enough to proclaim, “well big deal, you got lucky in one tournament!,” but I have to admit, I was a little star-struck, so I apologized for the “Daddy” comment.
My friend Michael intervened as the voice of sobriety on my behalf. Of course, this was not out of charity; Michael wanted some action of his own. Sober, drunk, or otherwise, it didn’t take a genius to know that getting even-money on a prop-bet of this nature is a rare treat from the gambling gods you’re not likely to stumble upon often.
So Michael throws me a few dollars and tells me to go buy some beers. I interpret this as a clue to disappear for a few minutes so as not to antagonize the situation beyond repair. After getting back from the bar with some Heinies (that’s douchebag-lingo for “Heineken”), I learn that we’ll have a $2,000 bet that Leif cannot bowl 22 games in 3.5 hours with a score of 140 or better each game. Michael catered to him by giving him an extra hour and ten pins per game from the original terms, but I didn’t care, because I still estimated his chance for success at under 2%. We told him to bowl a practice game while we went up to the counter to pre-pay for his games.
While at the desk, Michael and I watched Leif tally up a 34 through the first 5 frames in his practice game. Of course this made us cackle like jackasses and start giving each other high-fives over the free $1,000 each of us just earned. The old lady behind the counter overheard most of the negotiations of the bet and almost seemed thankful that we spiced up her night a little bit. You’re welcome, old lady.
As we walked down the alley to where Leif was, we realized he and his friend were rummaging through his purse (or whatever the thing was). We inquired what the problem was, and Leif told us that he lost his cell phone. Of course, my knee-jerk reaction was that he realized he was on the wrong side of a sucker-bet and is now using the ol’ “lost my cell phone” routine to get out of the bet.
Amidst all of this, a previously uninterested friend of ours, Imran, informed us that he remembered seeing an abandoned cell phone earlier. Imran said he left the phone where it was figuring its owner would return to claim it. Between Imran’s story and Leif’s seemingly-genuine concern regarding the whereabouts of his phone, I dismiss my theory that he was faking its disappearance.
Come to find out, Leif is no stranger to losing his phone in Las Vegas. Perhaps he should invest in a better purse? (OOOH, OUCH!)
Like madmen, Michael and I pitch in to help him locate his phone. To us, finding that thing is like finding $2,000, so even looking behind the toilets in the men’s (and women’s) restroom is not beyond us. After a half-hour scavenger hunt, it’s apparent that we’re not going to find his phone.
Ever the jackass, I coyly inquired, “so... ready to start bowling, then?” He was understandably a bit distracted from the bet. I thought he handled it really well though. He offered to flip a coin with us. Heads he does the bet right then and there, tails he’s off the hook.
Obv tails, bad beat, rigged prly.
We shook hands and exchanged phone numbers. Overall, Leif handled the situation nicely. He’s a good guy and seemed fun to hang out with.
And Leif, regarding the bowling bet, the offer is still on, anytime, anywhere. I’d also love to hear this story from your perspective, since mine was clouded with alcohol and testosterone.
posted by Cory Albertson at
3:54 PM
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