Doyle Brunson announces his retirement from poker and in his last World Series of Poker hurrah, makes the final day alongside his son, Todd in the $10k No-Limit Hold’em 2-7 Lowball.
Joanna, from Colombia, sits by the window, dressed like Johnny Cash, poking a mobile phone. I wonder if she misses her family, living 5,000 miles away in God’s country. What will she say when she stands by the graveside of a mother or a father, umbrella in hand, as the world weeps?
And what will happen to Joanna when it’s time to call it quits. She won’t be serving my decaf coconut latte’s, so what? What will any of us be doing for the last time, once we finally listen to our body and give up?
Charles Bukowski died of leukaemia, and wrote about his experience in a series of poems, daily, until cancer took his pen, and out went the lights. Tommy Cooper collapsed and died on stage while millions of people watched on TV.
Poker’s Godfather has seen three people die at the poker table during a professional career that has lasted 62-years, but he will not be one of them.
During an interview with Poker Central’s Remko Rinkema, Brunson declared his retirement from the game, stating the continued ill-health of his wife as the reason for him to leave the game that has made him a household name around the world.
“I will stay with her for the duration of either her life or mine,” Brunson told Rinkema.
It was a sentence that once eaten produced a spontaneous surge of emotion that turned into the most delightful waterfall. It made me want to close my laptop, run home to my wife and children, and cuddle up in bed with them for eternity.
But that won’t happen.
What is more likely to happen, is, I, like many other people around the world, will push the thought of death to the rarely touched reaches of the subconscious, and crack on with doing the work, only to emerge with the flame barely holding on in that last gust of wind, wondering why the fuck I didn’t make a different move.
“Every day I leave the house I feel guilty,” he told Rinkema.
Brunson met his wife, Louise in 1959, and made her Mrs Brunson three-years later. And now, Doyle wants to spend as much time with her as he can.
Now, all we need is a grandstand finish from the man who has been the cornerstone of growth in our game.
Brunson was one of 95 entrants to compete in the $10,000 No-Limit 2-7 Single Draw, yesterday. It will be his last WSOP hurrah. There are 11 players left going into the final day, and Brunson sits fifth in chips, with his son Todd in ninth.
If the Poker Gods are watching, now, more than any time since the WSOP began live tournaments in a bid to lure the fish into the cash games, we need you to wave that magic wand to create a dream heads-up final.
Todd v Doyle Brunson.
Can you imagine it?
There wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house.
I know what you’re thinking.
I am a dreamer.
I would argue, so is Doyle.
“These days I don’t remember more than two people in this room,” Brunson told Rinkema of the WSOP. “Sadly most of my close friends have passed away.”
How delightful, then, to share his final day of the WSOP in the presence of his boy.
You can read the full interview here.