When I was a student at Sewickley Township High School in Herminie, PA., one of my favorite sports was boxing. My dad had bought me a set of boxing gloves and I spent a lot of time practicing in a makeshift ring in front of our house on Sutersville Hill.
I boxed with everybody who would fight me. My younger brothers, neighbors, even rivals in school. When I had a problem with one of my fellow students, I challenged Alvin Opatchick to come by for a bout. He was more than happy to accommodate me.
Alvin was about my size and we matched up pretty evenly in the ring. I had a good left jab that I had been practicing and it made the difference in the fight. I would jab and jab and he went down. Then I jabbed some more and he went down a second time. After I knocked him down a third time, my dad, who was the referee, called an end to the fight.
I continued my boxing through high school and college. We had an annual gym competition where a number of bouts were scheduled between rivals. It was fun, competitive and a good way to settle old arguments. People would jam the bleachers at our high school to watch the students in action. A lot of problems were settled in the ring and students would go on their way in life as friends.
Years later in Las Vegas, I met a former boxer who had become a poker player. He never went by any other name except Lefty. He was tough -- a smart crafty guy in his 30s who would entertain us with his boxing stories while he tried to take our money.
He and I used to match stories about our accomplishments in boxing. His experience as a fighter far overshadowed mine since he had fought as a professional for a while. But the competition was too stiff and he finally retired from the ring.
Lefty enjoyed a drink and sometimes he and I would retire to the bar to continue our conversations. There he would compare boxing with poker and say things like, 'I sometimes raise like I'm jabbing another fighter -- just a provocative little jab to see how strong they are.'
I would nod and relate to his words. We would agree that the jabs set up the other poker players for an uppercut or a right cross. Lefty said that helped make poker fun. He also agreed it kept the other players off balance.
Lefty said, 'When I was boxing, I had a devastating left hook that I would save. It was my knockout punch. I would wait until everything was right and then I would put everything I had into the left hook. It often worked. That won me a lot of fights. I would think the same way when I was playing poker and if I were in a cash no limit game or a tournament, I would lay for another player in the same way.'
I could relate to what Lefty was talking about.
Today I still use boxing terminology when I am playing poker. I kept it to myself but as I am shooting out small raises I am thinking, 'Left jab...another left jab...'
When the right situation comes along, I lay back and suddenly come out with an uppercut or a left cross. It always tickles me when it lands and I scoop the pot.
We played in a tournament one night at The Orleans. The tournament had over 120 players and Lefty and I both made the final table. We finished the tournament in second and third place celebrated by going to a dance revue on the Strip. It was worth the money.
While I haven't seen Lefty in years, I am pretty certain he is still playing in Las Vegas. If you see a guy with a nose slightly pushed to one side and a nervous tic in his eye that is probably him. Just watch out for the left cross.
Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.
(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).
