Interview with Doyle Brunson
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Doyle Brunson is to poker what Babe Ruth was to baseball -- a larger-than-life giant of a man who not only helped to revolutionize and popularize the game he loved, but set the standard for achievement and excellence by which all other players are measured. Brunson won the World Series of Poker twice, but is perhaps better known for his greater contributions to the game. Twenty-five years ago, he co-wrote what has been called the "Bible" of poker -- "Super/System: How I Made Over $1,000,000 Playing Poker." He also pioneered higher virtues as one of the first respected voices in gambling to discuss the importance of honor and trust amongst his peers. Brunson came to personify the notion that gambling could be a respectable profession.
From his humble beginnings, there was little evidence to suggest this farm boy from the dusty plains of West Texas would become one of the world' most successful gamblers. Brunson was born in Longworth, Texas on August 10, 1933. He was so gifted athletically in his early years, that he was drafted by the NBA's (then, Minneapolis) Lakers. A knee injury ended Brunson's dream of becoming a professional athlete, so he had to find a new way to satisfy his competitive instincts.
He would soon find it after graduating from college with a Master's Degree in Education. Brunson hung up his basketball uniform and sat down at a poker table. And the rest, as they say -- is history.
Brunson became a "Rounder", making the rounds from one poker game to the next. It was a colorful, but dangerous way to make a living. Along the way, he met other men who would later become poker legends in their own rite -- including Johnny Moss, Sailor Roberts, and "Amarillo Slim" Preston (with a combined eight world championships between all of them).
In the early 1960s, Brunson married his sweetheart, Louise. Together, they had four children. The family moved to Las Vegas after Brunson found invitations to poker games increasingly difficult to come by, as he repeatedly won the most money from the games back in Texas. Once he was firmly established in Las Vegas, Brunson won the World Series of Poker twice -- in 1976 and 1977. Incredibly, he won both years with the exact same poker hand, a full house -- tens full of deuces -- giving the hold'em hand "10-2" the rightful nickname, "a Doyle Brunson."
When Brunson wrote his book "Super/System," which would become an instant classic, many of his fellow poker pros were outraged that he would give away the secrets to beating the games. While the games surely did become more difficult over the years that followed, a far more significant result was a greater public interest in poker, and more players wanting to play for higher-stakes. "Super/System" sparked a new wave of books on strategy that fueled greater public interest in poker.
Brunson's next contribution to the game was another book, "According to Doyle" -- which was a collection of his best columns written for the old Gambling Times magazine. The book is a series of reflections and philosophical musings about what it takes to be successful in gambling. Again, Brunson was a trailblazer -- introducing notions that gambling was a legitimate profession and that all true gamblers had an obligation to conduct themselves honorably.
In the 1980s, Brunson became just as well known for his antics out on the golf course, as at the poker table. He played golf for astronomical sums of money. He once commented: "The guys out on the pro golf tour don't compete for the amount of money we bet on a single round." Brunson also bet huge sums in the sportsbooks. He frequently bet five-figures or more on a single sporting event. It was (and is) not uncommon for Brunson to have a quarter of a million dollars in wagers "in action" on the day's games.
To date, Brunson has nine gold bracelets at the World Series of Poker. But his real claim to fame may be his success in cash games where he has been "The Man" for nearly five decades. He can still be found on a daily basis playing in the highest-stakes games in the world -- winning and occasionally losing more money in a single pot than the average working person makes in a year's salary. Now, approaching his 70th birthday -- Doyle Brunson shows absolutely no signs of slowing down.
The following interview between Doyle Brunson and Nolan Dalla took place in May 2003 at Binion's Horseshoe in Las Vegas. This is the first of a two-part series.
NOLAN DALLA: Let's start with a trip down memory lane, Doyle. What was it like growing up in West Texas during the 30s and 40s?
DOYLE BRUNSON: I'm just a country farm boy who grew up in a tiny town of less than 100 people. Everybody there worked as farmers. We didn't have much money back then, but I never gave any thought to it because we were happy. There were plenty of other people around who had less than we did because it was during the Depression. When I was a teenager, I really became active in sports. Part of it was because my dad managed the local gymnasium -- so I got to play and practice every day while the rest of the kids did other things. I knew the only way to leave Longworth and go to college was on an athletic scholarship. So, I concentrated most of my time on sports, which was no problem for me because I loved competing. I had lots of natural ability. When I got to high school in Sweetwater (Texas), I made the All-State team in basketball. I also won the Texas State Championship in the mile run -- which got me over one-hundred offers from around the country to go to college. I decided to attend Hardin-Simmons University in Abilene because it was only forty miles from my hometown and many of my closest friends went there.
DALLA: How did you go from a promising athletic career, including being drafted by the Minneapolis Lakers, to becoming a professional gambler?
BRUNSON: As far as poker goes, I really didn't play poker but a few times in high school. Instead, I played athletics and concentrated on my school work. When I got to college, I was the second best mile-distance runner in the state collegiate ranks and was selected the 'Most Valuable Player' in my conference. But that all ended when I got injured and busted up my knee. That ended whatever aspirations I had of becoming a pro athlete. That's the reason I have to use this crutch today. The injury got progressively worse. Once I accepted the fact my career in sports was over, I started playing poker to support myself. I would go around to the different colleges where I knew people that played poker -- the UT -- Austin, Texas Tech in Lubbuck, and Texas A&M. I also started to really focus on my studies and earned a Masters Degree in Administrative Education. At the time, I thought I was going to be a teacher/coach. Then later, when I saw that the pay scale for teachers was so poor, I decided not to pursue that profession.
DALLA: Have you ever worked a "regular" job in your life?
BRUNSON: One time. I went to work for the only 'regular' job I ever had, right after I graduated from college. I went to work as a salesman for the Burroughs Corporation. I sold bookkeeping equipment. That job lasted only a couple of weeks. When I saw my first paycheck, I figured I just wasn't cut out for that. I saw that I could make more money in one pot than what was in that entire paycheck selling a week of office supplies. All those small poker games in Texas -- that became my territory.
DALLA: You wrote about some of your earliest poker personal experiences in your book, According to Doyle. You told stories about playing in games on the underground poker circuit in Texas during the 1950s. What were those games like?
BRUNSON: I gradually worked my way up from very small games at the colleges to bigger private games. They were held on the north side of Fort Worth. Let me tell you, that area was the toughest place in the world to play poker. Thieves, robbers, and killings were common place up there. That's where I really got my training, you might say. The big money was in the games up on what we called the 'Bloodthirsty Highway' where everybody there was some kind of an outlaw. They were thieves, pimps -- a real bad element. But they were also the ones that made the poker games really good. Needless to say, I took a few scratches along the way. Then later, I moved downtown to the bigger games. The big game at the time was a one-dollar ante. Remember, this was the 1950s -- so, a dollar was a lot of money back then. You could make a few hundred a night if you knew what you were doing. I got to where I was winning regularly. That's also where I first met Sailor Roberts (who later became the 1975 World Poker Champion). Sailor and I started traveling around together. We were playing in bigger games around Texas and that's when we met up with Amarillo Slim. We formed a partnership -- the three of us. It was kind of nice to have someone to travel with. We kind of watched out after each other. There was a lot of danger back then.
DALLA: What kind of danger?
BRUNSON: To start with you had to keep from getting arrested by the police. Then, you had to keep from getting cheated in the games. You also had to worry about collecting the money if you won. Then finally, after all that was said and done -- you had to keep from getting hijacked. It was a harrowing experience. People today who play in all the big fancy (legal) cardrooms don't understand what it was like back in those days to be a poker player with all the problems we had. It was just one thing after another. But, I guess at least you could say it was interesting. Somebody was always trying to get your money, one way or the other.
DALLA: How many times were you robbed?
BRUNSON: So many times I can't even remember the number. Once, we were playing one of those outlaw games on Exchange Avenue in Fort Worth. All of the sudden, the door was busted down and a guy stormed in with a gun and shot a guy sitting right next to me at the table. I remember the guy's head falling off and splattering against the wall! We all saw that and ran out the door. Then, there was another time when a guy came up to me with a baseball bat and demanded my money.
DALLA: Did you give the robber the money?
BRUNSON: Yeah, yeah. Another time, a guy came up from behind me and stuck a knife right here (pointing to his neck). We got robbed in poker games lots of times. One of my favorite stories is when we were playing down in Austin in a big game. There were three or four games set up inside this house. All of a sudden, windows started breaking and guys with ski masks and shotguns came in through the windows and bound us all up. They put us up against the wall and made us drop our pants down to our ankles. Then, they took our money. One guy with a gun said, 'We really don't have time to strip search y'all. I want you to give us all your money. We're going to take three or four of you and search you and if we find you hiding anything we're going to blow your leg off.' I can remember one guy saying, 'Hey good buddy, you missed $400 right here!' Another one hollered out, 'Don't forget this $600 right here, good buddy!' After that, they put us up against the wall --- they always think I'm the biggest guy there, so I get picked on. One guy with a double-barrel shotgun turned me around and said, 'Alright, who runs this poker game?' I'm not a snitch so I answered, 'I don't know.' He didn't like that so he took his shotgun and hit me in the stomach with it. Then, he said, 'Who runs this poker game?' Again, I just answered, 'Sir, I don't know.' So next, he took the shotgun and hit me right upside the head, like wham! He said, 'Who runs this poker game?' I said again, 'I don't know.' He had one of those old fashioned shotguns where you cock it. So he cocked both barrels and put it right here between my eyes said, 'I'm going to ask you one last time -- who runs this poker game?' And I said, 'That guy right over there!'
DALLA: (Laughing) In another interview we once did together, I asked you about the first time you remember playing Texas hold'em. You said you first saw the game down at Lake Granbury in the late 50s. Can you tell us that story and explain how you mastered the game?
BRUNSON: This bootlegger had a big poker game at Lake Granbury, which is about 50 miles south of Fort Worth. They were all playing Texas hold'em -- which I'd never really played before. I'd always played games like Lowball, War, and Stud. I don't know why I got the hang of it so easily, as opposed to most people. Within a week, I was the best player in all the hold'em games. It was just a natural thing for me.
DALLA: There were no poker books back in those days. Did you play in a game, then go back home and think about what you had done and try to discover ways to improve?
BRUNSON: Today, there's a computer program called Poker Probe. But back in those days, there were no computers -- so I did all the strategy work manually. I dealt out a hand here. I put another hand there. I just kept doing it thousands and thousands of times, over and over. It got to where I was a lot more advanced in this game than most people. Everybody today knows what I learned back then because it's in all the poker books. But nobody knew the right way to play back in those days. After every game, (Amarillo) Slim and I would go to a Roadway Inn and get twin beds. Then we'd lay there awake all night and talk about the poker games and about different situations. You know, a lot of people don't know that about Slim -- what a great student of the game he was. Today, a lot of folks say Slim didn't know how to play. But let me tell you brother, Slim does know how to play. I also learned from Johnny Moss -- who was the best poker player in the world at that time. I got to watching him and studying him. So, if I had a mentor, it was Johnny Moss. Again, here's another guy -- Johnny Moss was a great player back in his day. When he was 50, I thought he was the best player I'd ever seen. And then he reached 70 and 80, and he lost it. Everybody said he wasn't a good player -- and I sure don't want that to happen to me. And I'm now getting to that age (70).
Note: Coming up in Part Two, Doyle Brunson talks about his later years, his views on spirituality, and what it takes to be a great poker player.
NOLAN DALLA: How did you get the nickname, "Texas Dolly?"
BRUNSON: I guess you could say Jimmy "the Greek" Snyder gave me that nickname, in a roundabout way. "Texas Doyle" is what he used to call me. One year when we were at the World Series of Poker together, he called me "Texas Doyle" and some reporters heard it come out as "Texas Dolly." I just shook my head and laughed, but they printed it. So, I guess they've been calling me that ever since.
DALLA: Doyle, one thing you conveyed in all your writings and dealings over the years is the importance of honor amongst gamblers. You routinely make handshake deals worth thousands of dollars. You once said (paraphrasing), "I'm not going to do business with a man where I have to get a written contract. If I can't look him in the eye and take him at his word, then I don't want to deal with him." For readers seeing this interview, why is that concept so important -- which is to establish honor and trust among gamblers?
BRUNSON: Once you lose your reputation in this business, that's it. It's over. When I was coming up through the ranks, not that many people carried a lot money of money on them. This was before checks and credit cards. Sometimes, all you had was your word. So, we gambled with each other based on trust. Now, in the upper echelon of gambling and poker, we deal in such big figures that you can't actually talk to people anymore about this, because they all think you're lying. No one believes the big figures we exchange, and the trust we have amongst ourselves. For instance, last month we were playing in a big poker game and -- I'm not going to use the guy's name -- he loaned this other guy in the game a million dollars. Finally, the game broke up and he turned and said to me, "Hey, I loaned that guy a million bucks -- and I don't even know his last name!" I told him, as far as I know, he's never done a thing wrong about money. So, you gotta' give him credit. But, he didn't even know the guy's last name! And, we all laughed about it. Of course, the guy made good on the loan. That's what I'm talking about -- that real gamblers can be trusted when they give their word.
DALLA: Doyle, you now have three grown children and one (son Todd) is also a professional poker player. Did you encourage him, and did you want him to follow in your footsteps?
BRUNSON: Absolutely not. We never talk about gambling around my house. Todd went to college. He attended Texas Tech and started playing poker there in Lubbuck. He came home one summer and he was playing in the smaller games here in Las Vegas. I'm watching him and I can see that the kid's got talent. I could especially see he had a lot of heart. And so, I didn't really discourage him. He said to me, "I'm going to go back to college and afterwards I'm going to play poker." His mother threw a fit when she heard that. But I didn't, because I thought he had talent. I didn't really teach him the game. He just picked it up on his own. He asked me some questions about poker strategy. I tried to answer him the best I could, but there is no definitive answer. You get asked what would you do in this situation -- and my answer was always the same. It would depend on who it was, where it was, the situation, and everything. I mean there are usually no direct answers to how do you play such-and-such a hand when somebody raises in front. Every poker situation is different. The only way you can learn is to play.
DALLA: You once said, that you could play poker with a table full of players and not look at your hole cards, and so long as they didn't know that you didn't look at your cards, you could outplay most of your opponents and win. Can you talk about that concept?
BRUNSON: Oh, yeah. That's the ideal poker game. It's just like when I got broke out of the Bellagio tournament (the championship finale of the World Poker Tour) with a Queen-Eight. Some people saw I busted out with that hand and didn't understand what I was doing. But to me, it could have been a Seven-Deuce in my hand -- it's the same thing. I was playing the situation. I hadn't made a pair all day long. This guy makes a $60,000 raise before the flop -- it was just a token raise to me, so I bet $500,000 more and moved "all in" because I thought I could win the pot right there. Well, the guy called me down with two Jacks and broke two of us at the table. I don't know how he could make that call, but he did. So, I made a bad read. Even though he's got two jacks, most people would have thrown them away in that spot. But that's poker. You can't hold enough hands coming into these tournaments without making some courageous plays.
DALLA: You would have made that same raise if you had Seven-Deuce in your hand (the worst possible hold'em hand)?
BRUNSON: Absolutely. It wouldn't have made a difference what I had. My two cards didn't matter. It was the situation. That's what I'm talking about. Ninety percent of the hands aren't shown in a poker game. You raise it, and you bet. Then, you bet again. Especially when there's a lot of money on the table. So when I said one time that I could beat a game without looking at my cards, that's what I mean. It's the situations that arise. It's not the cards that you have all the time that makes you a winner or a loser.
DALLA: You won poker's biggest prize -- the world championship back-to-back in 1976 and 1977. You have won nine titles at the World Series of Poker, which ties you for the all-time career record. You have made millions of dollars playing poker and could retire and live comfortably. Are there still things you hope to accomplish (as a gambler)?
BRUNSON: I think by this time, I've lost most of my ego. I'm a bottom-line guy now. Maybe it's because some other critical events that have happened in my life. I now see what the really important things in life are and they don't relate to what I do for a living. My wife Louise and I -- we lost a daughter several years ago (Doyla was a freshman at UNLV, and died suddenly at age 18). That made me came to the realization that I was fooling myself with some things. Since that time, I think I've lost most of my ego. Not completely -- I mean I still have pride for what I've accomplished and I want to leave a positive legacy behind me. I certainly don't know who the best poker player is. I think my claim to fame is my longevity. You know, I've played high-stakes poker longer than any player ever has -- and I'm thankful I've made it this far.
DALLA: Most people who know you are aware that you are a very religious man. There are stories of you playing poker, then suddenly getting up in the middle of a game, and going to go to church. Can you talk about what spirituality means to you?
BRUNSON: I grew up in a very religious family. My mom and dad were both Baptists. I went to church with them a lot. Then, when I got into poker, I kind of lost that commitment. When I lost my daughter, Doyla, I was sitting at home thinking what life was all about. The thought of money and fame and all that is nice to have. But it's not what's really important. I don't really like the word "religious." I mean, I'm a Christian. And, I have Christian beliefs. But "religious" is kind of a word that is often misunderstood by people and used the wrong way. I met a friend who is a preacher. He also lost a daughter, so that's how we met. He got to hanging around with me and got to meet with many of the poker players. He saw people with personal problems and he wanted to help them. So, I suggested we should set up some meetings and he would conduct them. I brought him to the poker tournaments and he would come up around and try to help people. I've seen guys get up from big poker games and go to these Bible studies. He was such a great teacher that I really enjoyed listening to him myself. I know he also helped a lot of guys over the years.
DALLA: You have said before that you're not religious in the traditional sense, but you are committed to high virtues. You're into doing good things for people. I think that attitude comes through in everything you do.
BRUNSON: I definitely have Christian beliefs. You know what they are. You don't have to sit in the front rows at church every Sunday to have those beliefs. My way is a lot different that most people's way. I have taken a different path in life. A lot of people don't understand it. I'm not going to argue with them. You believe what you want, and I'll believe what I want.
DALLA: The greatest bluff you ever made in your life didn't even take place at a poker table. Tell us what happened when you fooled the muggers who tried to rob you at your house a few years ago.
BRUNSON: (Laughing) We were coming home one night to my house and when we got to the front door there were two bandits dressed up and they were going to rob us. I didn't want to take them in my house, so I faked a heart attack right on the spot. I remembered Titanic Thompson used to do that when he was being robbed. The difference between us was, he carried a gun in a shoulder holster. When grabbing for his heart, he would come out with his gun blasting away. He killed five "would be" robbers in his life. Anyway, when I started falling to the ground, the bandits got scared and ran off.
DALLA: Do you like being recognized here in Las Vegas? You walk around town and surely people recognize you and know the name "Doyle Brunson." Do you like being recognized publicly?
BRUNSON: Not really. Like I said, I kind of lost my ego in later years. I've been asked to go on television shows. I use to do it all the time for the Horseshoe. I still do my best to promote poker. I do my best to promote the World Series of Poker. That's kind of the reason I do what I do -- not for personal recognition. It's to pay my dues back to poker.
DALLA: A final question, Doyle. After winning your last gold bracelet at the World Series of Poker a few months ago, you were asked when you might retire, and you said: "I'll retire when I quit winning." How much longer do you think you can go?
BRUNSON: I don't know. I really don't. I know I'm fortunate to have played at this level and I still win more often than I lose. I've kept an active mind. Through the years I've never stopped doing things, thinking about things, and I still think young. I don't think old. Nowadays, when I see pictures of myself -- I have to ask, "Who is that guy?" When I saw those pictures of me at the poker tournament, I couldn't believe how old I looked. I still have the mentality of a 19-year-old mind. It's funny the way you look at yourself. I had this certain image of myself that was different than the way other people probably see me. I mean, I never had an image of myself as a fat person. While I knew I was fat, I didn't see myself that way. My mental image of myself was of the boy who grew up in Texas and set the record for running the mile. Deep down, I'm still that kid inside.
With special thanks to George Fisher and Judy Klein.
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