Napoleon, Hitler, the French and a Flush

Written by Jeff Kelly

Perhaps it was fate that my stack of $320 worth of chips vanished in a single hand to a kid I was burning so bad I had nicknamed ATM, but don't tell that to Jeff Kelly.

For those of you who didn't catch on, I used third person.

For those who did notice, congratulations you've acknowledged me as the true jackass you have grown to love (insert "to hate" when appropriate on your own accord).

Where was I? Ah yes, I was about to indulge on how I, rather Jeffrey Kelly, was seemingly and unceremoniously defeated at poker, a task which a select group of individuals can brag about.

It was a Tuesday night and I was mowing people down so fast and furiously that they called me Hitler. (That previous sentence may have been politically incorrect...I apologize to my Jewish (and French) audience) I had bought in for a mere $15 and had amassed a chip stack that the Donald would have been proud of. I had busted at least four people, and they kept coming back for more. Many people may have taken the money and ran...but I was looking to pay off the rest of my college tuition and the mortgage I'll be taking out on my chateau in southern Italy all in one night. That's right.

We started around 10:00 p.m. and I figured I was on pace to purchase that yacht I've always wanted around 10:30. Perhaps I was being a little generous, over anxious...liberal, or even a little too arrogant with myself.

Strike that, I was on fuckin fire and by the time 11 rolled around my great grandkids were going to be pissing into diamond incrusted chalices.

I was winning with full boats, straights, two pair and even high card. People were forfeiting their hands as they were being dealt. To paint a picture for my audience, try to imagine what France would do if they saw that Orc army from The Lord of the Rings breathing down their necks. (If I have a large French audience, you have probably noticed I have taken several cheap shots at your homeland...I just wanted to point that out again)

My stack kept growing and the natives were growing restless. They were going to make a last stand and like Napoleon and Hitler I became a little too over confident with my conquering.

The last hand of the night was to be played...

I was dealt K 10 and I played it aggressively, I got one call from the kid in the corner I called ATM all night.

The flop was K 9 7. Again, I attacked aggressively...again he called.

The turn showed a 2. Again, I attacked aggressively...again he called.

The river showed a K. Checkmate.

"I'm all in," I declare, ready to rush to the computer and buy a few thousand shares of Google.

"I've been waiting for this all night," said ATM.


I don't remember much from there on out. I woke up the next morning with a tattoo of a Penguin on my thigh and a few hundred strands of beads hanging around my neck. Ok that’s a complete lie.

Jeff tried to rationalize his fall from stardom. It was a financial plummet that MC Hammer would have been envious of. The visions of Donald Trump asking me for permission to exercise his bodily functions were quickly being replaced with visions of me teaching an outgoing monkey to dance on a street corner just to pay for some booze while being a homeless bum in South Philly.

How did I not see that flush coming? How did France not see Germany coming the first time? And the second time 20 years later? (This should be the last poke at the French)

I had two options...I could walk away from the game or learn from my mistakes and avoid being another France. Napoleon and Hitler were not able to learn from their blunders of invading Russia, but I was given a second opportunity to take money from inexperienced rich kids that learned how to play poker by watching ESPN.

Beware of the flush, but most of all, resist being like the French. (Nope I was wrong there was one more in me)