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Posted by on Nov 26, 2013 in Blog, General Poker, Personal | 2 comments

Public Notice: Warning! Do Not Shoot Pool With This Man!

 

todd-anderson

 

I’m issuing a public announcement.

DO NOT SHOOT POOL WITH TODD ANDERSON.

Keep your sanity.  Preserve your hope.  Save your money.

The chrome-domed gentle giant from the great white north of Minnesota has spent a decade masquerading as a poker executive.  What an act.  He effectively established his cover story, first as the co-creator and owner of the Heartland Poker Tour (HPT) which exploded into a national success.  Then, he most recently turned his attention to Poker Night in America, which he also founded and now oversees.

Come to find out, this was all just a sham.

In fact, TODD ANDERSON IS A POOL HUSTLER.

Tonight, I got stuck worse than a roasted pig over a flame, and I never saw it coming.  Here in the high roller suite overlooking Reno, we took over the Safari Room, which — come to find out — is stocked with a pool table.  I know it was all a setup.  I thought could take Todd down, easy.  As it turned out, I left flat heartbroken, and my bankroll busted.

It started off so innocently.  First, it was playing partners “for fun.”

Gee, Todd really sucked.  He couldn’t make a shot.  The guy played like a turkey.

Then, wallets popped out and cash started hitting the green felt.  First, it was $20 a game.  Todd still didn’t play very well.  He managed to scrape by and win a few games, each time seemingly getting a lucky break.

Next. some idiot suggested playing for $100 a game (I won’t announce who because the answer might incriminate me).  Hundred bucks a pop.  Guy seemed to struggle to move around the table.  What a mark.

Todd got so lucky that first game.  I don’t know how he won, but he managed to edge me out by a single ball.

Re-match!

Another C-Note hit the felt and quicker than I had lifted the wooden rack from the green surface, Todd popped the break shot with the full force of a sledgehammer.  The eight-ball spun and then dropped in the side pocket for an instant win.  I hadn’t even picked up my cue, and I was stuck another $100 in 4 seconds.

Re-match!

“How much?” he asked.

I was so damned tempted to say $200.  Man’s got to get even.

But sanity prevailed.  Another $100 to the felt.

Wham,  Crack.  Bang.  Pop.  Swoosh.  Clack.  Six balls down, and I finally get my first shot.

Of course, my board looks like a complete clusterfuck.  I blow the only shot I get, and Todd basically does a war dance on what’s left of my dignity.  Bang!  Bang!  Eightball — ka-boom!

Here’s the greedy beast lined up next to a rhino, making one of his last fateful, fatal shots, another dagger to my bleeding heart (photo above).

Let me tell you something, Todd Anderson!  I think you snowed me big time!  In fact, I know it!  I’m sure as hell not happy about it!

So next time, we’re playing for $200 a game.  And your not partnering with the rhinoceros.

PS:  After I left busted, Joe Sartori was getting hustled next and was down three bills.  Stop that evil man!

2 Comments

  1. lol

  2. You didn’t see The Hustler? Break his thumbs.

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