I met Johnny in one of those serendipitous encounters I seemed to specialize in. He was short and rotund; had intelligent face and a sincere-sounding, smooth, soft and even voice. I was making a living listening to people's sales pitch over the phone. I should know about voices.
He told everybody whom we met that I was his mentor. I corrected him every single time. "No, I'm simply his friend", said I.
He was 46, but looked 36, surprisingly, considering what he had gone through. He sat opposite from me in the poker room of the Turning Point Casino in Scottsdale, AZ in a sweltering summer evening about 8 years ago. I was then working full time as an account manager for a big financial services company in the nearby Phoenix, that was being bailed out by the Federal Reserve, but found myself increasingly drawn to the world of poker during the weekends and evenings. Poker fascinated me for its uncanny resemblance to Life, or at least War (you're a financial gladiator waging an endless war of attrition and survival against the sharpest and reckless minds) and an incredible cast of characters playing it. Most play it as an avocation while a few, like Johnny, depend on it for a livelihood.
Johnny was friendly and talkative. After he lost a big hand and a lot of money, he gamely volunteered information that in light of he had gone through, this was nothing, and besides he "always" would make money back from playing the tournaments. That piqued my interest. I pressed him with more details. And he gladly supplied.
-"I feel so blessed right now. I could have died, hungry, broke, like a sick stray dog on the street. But I'm alive and okay now just because somebody had a pity for me and trusted me. I was standing on a street corner downtown, holding a sign 'Anything Helps. I'm Really Very Hungry. Please Help. Thank You.
I was indeed hungry. I didn't have a decent meal for weeks. I was down and on my way to exit this world for good. I was despondent and ashamed of myself. I was a stupid addict, blowing away all my money in booze, drugs, and gambling. I had become homeless for two months, after selling off my car, and all my valuables, sleeping in parks at night and scavenging and then begging for food.
I was shaking with hunger. All day long, nobody stopped to give me even a quarter. I was ashamed of myself and of course this was not the kind of life my parents and I envisioned it to be. Like I said, I was tired, hungry, despondent, and suicidal. I told myself if I couldn't get anything to buy a hamburger at McDonald's, I would just jump off an overpass and kill myself. Then at dusk, an old Cadillac stopped. The driver's side tinted window was down, and a lady reckoned me over. She gave me a good look, then looked at her purse, opened it, and gave me $5! I was stunned at first but soon recovered my faculty of speech. I thanked her profusely."
I couldn't help myself. I felt deflated, having expected a more dramatic, momentous, uplifting, seismic tale. I thus interjected, "Is that it? That's all? But any rate, the lady was kind. I'm sure you were able to eat that day."
-"No, Sir. The story didn't end there. What's your name? Mine is Johnny, by the way."
-"Roberto. Glad to meet you. But before you move on with your story, may I say something? "
-"Yes, Sir."
-"Just call me Roberto. That will do. Even I don't call myself 'Sir' . I don't mean to be rude and confrontational, but you were talking about your being very hungry, famished even, and had nothing to eat. Isn't there a charitable mission somewhere in this city where you can go and get a free meal? Don't they feed the homeless in this city?
I was looking straight at his eyes, looking for signs of mendacity. He looked sheepish and stammered , "Yes, there is, but it's too far. And the bus system in this city sucks. I don't know if you notice, there are hardly any buses in this affluent city."
I pressed on, "Then why didn't you panhandle near the mission then?".
He chucked, "Competition. And I would get beaten up. Believe or it, homeless folks are very territorial."
I felt bad and embarrassed for interrogating him and putting on the spot. But he handled himself well. There was no betrayal and hint of annoyance or anger in his voice. In fact, he was polite and as-a-matter-of-fact in his delivery. His diction was good. He was obviously educated. I wasn't mean or anything, but I just didn't like to be lied to. I hate liars with a passion. So, I apologized to him and asked him to continue his story.
"Anyway, as I was saying, I was lucky because the very next day, she stopped by again and asked me if I would like to earn some money by painting the exterior of her house. I excitedly said yes. We didn't talk about the wages. I trusted her. She seemed to trust me, too. A lot. It was incredible of her to invite a total male stranger to her house. The house was big and old, in a fading gentry part of town. We had stopped at Home Depot to buy ladder, paint, and brushes. It took me a whole week to paint the house. She cooked for me and let me me sleep in her deceased son's bedroom. She made me discard my old clothes and gave me the clothes of her son who somehow was of my size. When the job was done, she gave me $500 which was more than fair, considering I had had free room and board for a week. She then dropped a bombshell. I could stay in the house as long as I liked. In exchange for free room and board and occasional money she would ask me to fix things around the house, cut the grass, and drive her to the doctor, and does errands for her. In other words, I would act as a handy man and chauffeur. She said that she was going to help me turn my life around because she trusted me and more importantly because I bore an uncanny resemblance to her son who had died of a drug overdose about six months prior she ran into me standing in the streets begging for money. The only absolute condition she put forth was that no drugs, no booze, and no girls be brought into her house. Of course, I jumped at her magnanimous proposal. She is my angel in the flesh. I've been clean ever since. And I've been with her for almost four years now.
At that time, I interjected again, " What a beautiful story! I'm moved and deeply affected by it. I hope you will not betray her and hurt her in any way because if you do, you're much worse than a dog. A dog has loyalty. Most humans, at least those that I know, don't have it. They are assholes and scumbags."
Johnny said, "You're right. I'm not like that. She is a sign of human goodness. No, I will never betray her. Even in the depths of my despair, I tried to maintain the goodness in me. I was never into violence or stealing or robbing. I didn't cheat and lie in order to survive. Begging was bad enough for me. So, I saved the money she gave for my labor and one day started setting foot in the casino again, but this time I eschewed craps, baccarat, and blackjacks. I only played poker where I had a fairly good amount of control over the outcome of my decisions. I played very conservatively and built up my bankroll. Luckily, not long after, I hit a bad beat jackpot which gave me a mid five-figure payout. Then I ventured into tournaments. My bankroll is in the high five-figure now."
Johnny and I became fast friends. We had dinners together now and then . He invited me to visit his benefactor's home. The lady was classy and had a kindly face. She was a retired nurse. Her deceased husband was a hospital administrator. He had died of an automobile accident when her son was little. Tragedies were frequent visitors in her life. She told me that she regarded Johnny as her surrogate son, but asked me never to tell Johnny that. I said, "Sometimes Love is best not spoken. Silent Love is always more beautiful. Your love for him flows out of you like colors from a painter, like words from a poet. Johnny is not a stupid, coarse, crude man. He understands things. He told me he was a civil engineer prior to his descent into a hell of his own making."
Johnny and I had many long conversations together. I tried to impart to him whatever hard-earned lessons I had gathered in my own turbulent, destruction-prone life before philosophy, Yoga, and meditation saved my life. I said,
" Johnny, most humans are simply no different than wild beasts in the jungle. They are much worse than dogs. They essentially have no self-respect. They lie, cheat, and slander. They are lazy, stupid, ignorant, and yet vain. They cannot handle facts, truths, and Justice. They deserve to be rounded like vermin and destroyed. Be careful and circumspect. Don't open your heart to strangers and acquaintances. Test them first. Don't let them take advantage of you. Learn from my mistakes. Don't be stupid like I was."
Johnny, incredibly enough, just sat there, didn't say a word, and listened to my rants which could go on for hours. He was my mute Sancho. Invariably, I was so worked up and homicidal after those marathon conversations that when I got back to my high rise condo, I had to go straight to the exercise room and worked on the bag, lifted weights, and ran and ran on the treadmill until all the anger drained from me. Then I went outside to soak myself in the whirlpool, looking at the Mexican palm trees swaying in the desert winds under the moonlit, starry, cold sky.
Then in the spring of 2013, the lady and Johnny moved to Vegas, about four hours drive away. Johnny asked me to retire early and join them there. I said no. I had a weakness for gambling. Being in that glitzy city of sins might do me in. A man must know his limitations.
Johnny and I kept in touch via phone and text messages. He kept assuring me that he was doing "all right" though I detected a hint of anxiety occasionally. I had cautioned him that he must practice good money management and stay away from bloodsuckers. Time came and went away. In the summer of 2015, I received a phone call from Johnny.
-Roberto (Johnny was huffing and stammering), could, could you please, wire, wire me $2,500 by tomorrow noon. I need the money to enter a No-Limit Hold'Em event in the WSOP (World Series of Poker) tournament that somehow I'm feeling in my bones that I will win. I will pay you back, I swear. I don't want to ask Katrina for money. It's just not right.
-Fuck! What happened to your bankroll, Johnny? Don't tell me that you already pissed it all away!
Johnny's voice was breaking. It sounded that he was trying to prevent himself from crying. "I've been running bad for a year now, both cash and tournaments. I'm down to three grand. I won't touch it."
-Did Katrina know about this?
-Of course not.
-You okay? Not doing drugs and boozing again , are you?
-Absolutely not. I will kill myself before doing that again. Listen. Please, please, Roberto. I will pay you back. Absolutely, I will. Don't you worry about that. Here's the deal. If I win, which I will, you will get three-quarters of the money. Just help me out by taking care of the tax payment. I'll pay you your share in cash, so you won't get hit with a tax bill. Okay? Roberto, please!
-How many will be in the tournament? Do you know?
-Thousands. In the past, the payout for first place is over $2 million. You'll be okay and don't have to work. All you need to do is to invest $2,500 in me. Besides, I will pay it back to you if I don't win, but I am "sure" I will win.
-How do you know you will win?
-Because I'm feeling in my bones that I shall win. I even dreamed about it last night.
-If you're so fucking sure about it, then why are you hitting me for money? Doesn't sound too logical, does it? But I'm telling you what. I'm going to wire you the money right now. You will get it within an hour. Just don't con me. We are friends. We've had many long talks. Just remember that.
Believe it or not, I made peace with myself after I wired the money. I figured $2,500 was pretty cheap for me to find out if I could trust a former drug addict and panhandler. I had made many decisions about money before. Once I made them, I didn't think about them. I knew deep down I didn't care about money that much. I was more into Trust and Love.
I didn't bother to follow the news of the tournament event on the Net. I figured that the money was gone. My interest was to see if Johnny kept his word by paying back by monthly installments of $250 as he had said he would.
Then three days later, I received a text from Johnny, " I told you! Tomorrow will be the final. Me 1 of the remaining 9 players standing and I'm the chip leader! Get over here quickly and be my protector. Vultures are circling. They're hitting me hard left and right for money. Be here quick."
I walked into the office of my boss and told him that I must take a one-week vacation. Something happened and I must be out of town. He reluctantly agreed. I couldn't care less if he had disagreed. I would have quit. I had already turned 65 and entitled for pension as well as Social Security and Medicare.
I caught the first flight to Vegas. I rented a nice car at the McCarran Airport upon arrival. I picked Johnny up at Katrina's house and took him to the Rio's Casino where the event final would be held and videoed for later broadcast on cable outlets. I asked him if he had told Katrina about the good news. He said, not yet. I said, "Good, call her now. Say you're in the final and should not be disturbed. If she needs help, ask her to call me, instead. Also, from now on disregard all calls and text messages. Shut your phone down. Now, you and I go down to the gym, have a light but long workout. Then you go to the massage parlor and get a nice massage. I'll pay for it. Meanwhile, concentrate and visualize that you shall be the champ when this is all over. You shall get the championship gold bracelet and you will be part of poker history. Be positive, but be calm and unperturbed. You are a Samurai warrior of Poker. You are a financial gladiator. And you will be the champ after two days. Nothing will go wrong. Everything will go right. Practice deep breathing at all times. Have a good sleep tonight and every night after that. This is not Life or Death. This is just Poker. You are bigger than Poker. Don't over-dramatize Life. Be cool. Treat it just any other poker game that you have played tens of thousands of times before. Whatever happens, you will be okay financially. Just don't piss all the money away like you just did. In fact, after this, you must quit Poker, invest your money and live a normal life. Katrina told me she considered you as a son. She intended to leave you most of her money and material possessions when she dies. You are a very lucky son of a bitch."
Johnny didn't say a word, just nodded his head, and breathed hard. I interrupted my own speech several times and told him to relax and breathe deeply.
He, of course, went on winning the event. I got paid 3/4 of it without anybody else knowing about it except Katrina. She was cool about it. I handed in my letter of resignation when I got back to Phoenix, sold my condo and bought a nicer one in Vegas in the Southwest part of town. I am now having a part-time job to keep me "sociologically connected", reading books, learning foreign languages, stopped playing Poker, and sculpturing my body by lifting weights and swimming.
Johnny quit Poker as I recommended, stayed sober, lost weight by eating right and exercising, and went back to school to get some required courses for his teaching license to teach high school math. Not too long after that, Katrina died of a stroke and Johnny became quite well-off. Johnny sold her house and moved to Flagstaff, AZ., where he was a math teacher. He came to Vegas to visit me this summer. We went to shows and dinners, but Johnny never played cards or gambled again.
He told everybody we met that I was his mentor, but I simply said that I was his friend. I didn't tell anyone, including him, that by being his friend, I made myself a better person, financially and emotionally.
8/28/2016
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