Steve Sanders, World Series of Poker (WSOP)

The North Coast News 2009 story on our local poker man, Steve Sanders. To see how he did this year, read this week’s North Coast News:

One card.

Anything but a club . . .

Holding two aces, Steve Sanders was one card away from the ultimate Pyrrhic victory. He could have won the hand . . . and lost his life.

Instead, he lost all his chips, and lived to tell about it.

And, even though he didn’t win the big pot, he still brought $138,658 back to the North Beach, after finishing 54th at the World Series of Poker.

What a finish it was for Sanders, surrounded by the sport’s heavy hitters in Las Vegas, just a few years after learning how to play poker right here, at the Quinault Beach Casino & Resort.

“There wasn’t much difference, playing in Las Vegas,” the soft-spoken Sanders says. “The players at the (Quinault) casino are really good.”

A pair of Phils frame the personalities of professional poker stars: the brash, trash-talking “poker brat” Phil Hellmuth, and the silent, ice-eyed Phil Ivey. Steve Sanders of Ocean City, at first blush, doesn’t seem anywhere close to either of them. Tall and fair, with a humble nature (“I’ve been fortunate,” he says, more than once) and a gregarious personality, he seems closer to a drawling, straight-shooting Gary Cooper than a hustling card sharp.

Friday night, when he went to the nearby Quinault Casino, his biggest deception may have been BEFORE he left the house. One of his three dogs (he recently had to put a fourth, Rocky, to sleep) is a great big affectionate, emotional giant of a St. Bernard who hates when Steve leaves him. As Dodger knows that when Steve puts his baseball cap on, he’s going out, Steve hid the cap near the door, distracted Dodger with a favorite toy, then passed bull mastiffs Bull and Belle and stealthily made his exit . . .

Recently, Sanders was playing with the “big dogs,” the heavyweights of the poker world.

 He owns RV parks in Oklahoma and Arkansas and splits his time between here and Oklahoma (hence the light drawl). This year, the 62-year-old decided to break up the cross-country drive, and raise his own personal ante. He stopped in Las Vegas and paid $10,000 to enter the World Series of Poker, which has become something of a sensation in recent years. 

“Watching it on TV,” sparked Sanders’ in interest in the World Series of Poker. “I thought it would be fun on my way out here, so I rented a home for a month in Las Vegas, and my kids stayed with me — I even had my ex-wife there.”

Then it came time for the card game, at extremely high stakes. The $10,000 “buy in” purchased $30,000 in chips. Players could continue until their chips ran out.

There was a huge turn-out, 6,500 entrants, many “pros” who were far more experienced than the relative newcomer Sanders, but other “amateur” players with wild-eyed dreams of making the final table.

The poker game of the tournament is “Texas hold ‘em.” After ante-ing into a pot, each player at the table is dealt two cards, face down. Then five cards are dealt into a communal hand, with betting possible after every hand. 

The player who has the best hand, combining his two cards with the five community cards, wins whatever the pot is. Players who like their chances can bet small wagers up to “all in,” their entire chips.

Sanders kept plugging away, dodging disaster and making it into the low thousands, the hundreds . . . He lasted a full week into the tournament, and then came Day 8.

At his high point, Sanders had built the $30,000 in chips to over $2 million. Then came the hand of a lifetime, something he is likely to never forget; and, even if he does, there will be tape of the TV to remind him.

As the action televised by ESPN showed, Sanders seemed to have the drop on Dennis Phillips, a strong player who finished third in last year’s tournament, which scored him $4.5 million. In an earlier hand, Sanders was dealt a fantastic hand, two queens. Phillips, across from him, made an “all in” bet, putting Sanders to the test. After mulling it over, Sanders decided to play it safe, and “fold” his seemingly powerful hand.

ESPN commentators praised his instinct, as Phillips turned out to have two aces.

With less than 60 players still alive in the tournament, the cards were dealt, and this time it was Phillips with two queens.

Sanders’ hand: two aces.

Phillips raised with a big bet, Sanders came back and re-raised him, Phillips “checked.”

On the “flop,” the dealer put three cards, face up: an ace, giving Sanders three aces. But all of the flop cards were clubs . . .

Phillips’ bet: “I’m all in.”

With three aces, Sanders had to call the bet, right?

“There was a little hesitation” in his mind, Sanders said. “I didn’t have a club.”

Still, after a moment, he called the bet.

Both players flipped their cards over, before the last two cards were dealt. “Oh, my,” Phillips exclaimed, seeing Sanders’ two aces. But one of Phillips’ queens was a club, giving him a slim chance of beating Sanders, but needing a club to do it. The first card was not a club . . . 

The”river card,” the last one dealt, would decide who would stay, and who would go; it was a club. Phillips won, taking almost all of his opponent’s chips.

Said ESPN’s Lon McEachern : “That leaves Sanders crippled!” 

Little did he know.

“I was actually thankful when that club came on the river,” Sanders insisted, last week.

With a dwindled stack of chips, he bet all in on the next game, losing the rest of his chips and officially ending his tournament run. He went straight from the bright lights of the casino . . . to the bright lights of the hospital.

“I took a cab to the Emergency Room, and they took a look at me and immediately operated on me.”

He had been playing in extreme pain for an entire week of 12 hour days. He thought it was just an old back problem had picked this time to flare up, but when he got looked at, was told he had a “Triple A,” Abdominal Aorotic Anuerysm.

“A blood vessel was getting ready to burst,” Sanders said. “They told me it’s 85 percent fatal, if it bursts.”

So if he would have won that big hand and kept playing, the blood vessel might have burst, killing him.

Losing “actually saved my life,” he said.

After spending a week in the hospital, Sanders came back to Ocean City with his winnings. He made donations to a few local non-profit organizations, and banked the rest.

The money is nice, but the whole experience gave him a new perspective. “I’m lucky to be alive.”

Playing at his old haunt on Friday night, Sanders seemed to be enjoying the socializing, as much as the gambling. 

After a few friends congratulated him, a newcomer wondered if Sanders had won big on the slots.

“No,” the Oklahoman answered, “I was in the World Series of Poker.”

The other fellow asked him how he did.

“I finished 54^th. But on my last hand, I had pocket aces . . .”

It’s a story he’ll be telling a few more times.