Max Becomes an Expert
By Max Shapiro

I am the Rodney Dangerfield of poker. It’s true that I am America’s foremost poker humorist. (Hey, if Oklahoma Johnny Hale can give himself a dozen titles, why can’t I give myself just one?) But because I write funny material, nobody will believe that I’m also a serious poker player.

Oh, I did have one moment of glory back in 1995 when The Bicycle Casino introduced its Legends of Poker tournament. They recruited a crew of top players to be “legends,” with each hosting an event. I was tabbed as one of the legends and got to host a tournament — Omaha high-low, of course. The next year, Legends of Poker continued, but without the hosts. Robert Turner said it was because they got so many complaints about my inclusion, though I’m sure he was just kidding.

Then, early in November, I was contacted by Lou Kelmanson, the CEO of RoyalVegasPoker.com, one of the major online poker sites, and was invited to join the RoyalVegasPoker team as one of their “experts.”

Expert! I sure liked the sound of that word. I’d get to play in RoyalVegas tournaments, chat with the players, be a cash bounty, and get to send one of my autographed books to any player lucky enough to knock me out.

I admit to being a trifle surprised when I got the offer. “Was I being chosen because of my stature as a Card Player columnist?” I asked.

“Not precisely,” he replied.

“Then I guess it must be my reputation as a poker player.”

There was a violent fit of coughing on the other end of the phone line.

“OK, then what?” I demanded to know.

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “we’re really only interested in your sweetie, but she refused to come aboard unless you were part of the deal.”

“Barbara?” I beamed. “It must be love.”

“More like blackmail,” Kelmanson muttered.

Well, who cares what the reason was? The main thing was that I would be part of the team and an official expert. But I was still a bit suspicious and wanted more details.

“Well,” I persisted, “will my compensation be the same as the other experts?” He explained that each expert’s compensation is based on how much prestige each brought to RoyalVegasPoker.com. In my case, I would have to compensate them for damage to their reputation by supplying something of offsetting value. “Some of your books should cover it,” he said. “Say, about 10.”

“Ten books?”

“Ten cases.”

The next thing I had to do was buy a suitable computer. As I had mentioned in a past column called “Max Goes Online,” I’d had trouble playing on the internet with the computer I had been using. My sweetie had described it as a “relic,” with memory measured in kilobytes, with the speed of a turtle on crutches, and which ran on Windows 1956. Well, at least the price had been right. I found it in a dumpster.

After I ordered a couple of new printings of my book and bought another computer, I was several thou in the hole, but who cared? I was an expert!
The first thing I did was e-mail the good news to one of my fellow experts, Bob “The Coach” Ciaffone. I used to play in a regular pot-limit game with The Coach at the home of Ralph the Rattler, so he was well aware of my prowess as a player. He immediately e-mailed me back and warned me that I wouldn’t be allowed to play under an assumed name.

What!! I couldn’t use a name like “PokerPro” or “Terminator”? I’d have to play as “MaxShapiro,” so everybody could see how badly (I mean, how deceptively) I played? I couldn’t check-raise or write nasty chat notes when some dweeb outdrew my pocket aces with an 8-5 off suit? Hmmmm, Ciaffone’s next sentence was even more upsetting. “You may not be aware that people can receive a history of each hand you play … shouldn’t use up enough paper to threaten the environment, though.” Wise guy. Me play tight?

Well, I knew I’d get a lot more respect from Lou Krieger, another of the experts. After all, Lou and I went to the same high school, Abraham Lincoln in Brooklyn. (The only difference was that Lincoln was still alive when I went there). So, I e-mailed him too, and asked if he could provide me with an endorsement. His reply: “RoyalVegasPoker’s new motto is, ‘Play and win at the one site where any two cards you’re dealt have a positive expectation when Shapiro’s in the game!’”

Another wise guy. Almost as bad as when he claimed that I was the inspiration for one of his books: Poker for Dummies.

I shrugged off both responses. They’re probably just jealous, I convinced myself. I readied myself for my first tournament on RoyalVegasPoker.com. I could just imagine the shock and awe my opponents would feel when they found themselves at the same table with … Max Shapiro! I visualized the reverent and respectful chat notes. Yeah, right. “Yum, yum!” was one of them. “Hey, it’s Max; just watch him blind himself off,” was another. And so on.

Oh, well, at least I wasn’t the first one out. And don’t worry, I’ll get the feel of this thing as I go along. So, come play with me (I mean, against me) on RoyalVegasPoker.com and experience the thrill of going head-to-head with an expert.

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