Sweating Life with George Doyle

In poker, when a master allows someone to watch him play, in order to gain a better understanding of the game, he is allowing that person to “sweat” his cards. Last week, this reporter had the invaluable opportunity to sweat life with one of the league’s most enigmatic players, George Doyle. The lessons learned during my day with Doyle will last a lifetime.

Doyle picked me up in his Hummer, bright yellow, of course, and instructed me that he would display a few moves he had developed, culled from a website he created, called “HOW TO TICK PEOPLE OFF.” Skeptical at first, I scoffed at Doyle’s pomposity. Surely he could not be adept in the ways of annoyance. McDonald’s taught me otherwise: Doyle pulled up to the drive-thru and screamed, “I’ll have a number one. That’s TO-GO!” The cashier responded, “excuse me?” Doyle quipped, “You heard me, TO-GO!” He looked at me, winked, and said, “a number one value meal and lesson number one, ain’t life grand?”

As we drove away, he turned on his windshield wipers, despite the fact that not one storm cloud sat in the sky. After about five minutes, the sound of the dry wipers on the dry glass passed a point of bear-ability. I asked Doyle if he would kindly turn them off, since no rain was falling. “I’m keeping them tuned up,” he retorted. Silently, I knew I had received lesson number two.



Doyle then asked me to tell him about my life. “I have a beautiful wife,” I started, but before I could continue, he added, “that’s what you think.” Staring at him, I countered, “she is very attractive, thank you, and we’re very much in love.” He blankly stared at me and responded, “that’s what you think.” Baffled, I asked, “We’re not in love? We value nothing more in life than each other.” Doyle simply said, “that’s what you think.” Starting to become angry, I shot off, “How would you know? Felicia and I only spend time together!” Lesson number three was complete when Doyle answered, “that’s what you think.” Of course, at the time I did not realize the lesson and started to doubt the fidelity of my marriage. All in a day’s work with George Doyle.

Moving on, Doyle shifted the conversation. I started to become annoyed with him when he continually ended each sentence with “in accordance with prophesy.” When we passed a gas station, he said, “Gas sure is expensive this week, in accordance with prophesy.” “I have a meeting with the execs today, in accordance with prophesy.” “My Rollerchairball defense is the best in the world, in accordance with prophesy.” At this statement I had to protest, “Certainly Mr. Wood has the best defense in the game.” Doyle replied, “Your idiocy is enormous, in accordance with prophesy.” Lesson number four.

Several times during the day I attempted to speak to Doyle and he signaled the conversation was over by putting his hands over his ears and screaming. Lesson number five.

At Doyle’s mansion, he handed me the manuscript to his latest Rollerchairball strategy book, which I had requested to preview, but I could not read much, since he had stapled all the pages in the middle. He insisted the middle-page method is a top-tier type of annoyance. “Works on any boss,” he noted. He asked if I wanted to kick back and watch some television on his 108″ plasma television. When I obliged, the screen portrayed every person as an intense green. When I told Doyle I thought his tinting levels were off, he told me, “no, I like it that way.” Six and seven.

We then made our way to a restaurant, a sit-down affair. When Doyle reached the hostess, she offered to seat him, but he declined her offer, instead eating their complimentary mints. Several times she tried to seat Doyle, but he refused until the plate of mints was empty. We then left. In the car ride home, Doyle kept saying, “Do you hear that?” When I asked what he was talking about, he responded, “Never mind, it’s gone now.” Thirty seconds would pass and he would again ask, “Do you hear that?” Hearing nothing, I said, “What?” “Never mind, it’s gone now.” That happened about 18 times in a row. Pulling in the drive way, Doyle said, “I hope you liked lessons eight and nine.”

Doyle needed to go to the grocery store, so of course I tagged along. Cheery people said hello to Doyle as they passed him in the aisles. Unfortunately, most ended up despising him because Doyle insisted on asking each person what gender they were. Lesson 10 nearly had us both in fisticuffs with several gentlemen who did not appreciate having their masculinity questioned.



To end nearly every night, Doyle attends the opera. That night, we took in “Aida,” one of Doyle’s favorites. To everyone’s utter dismay, Doyle sang along to every aria. When the woman in front of us told him he was annoying, he responded, “that’s what you think.” She countered, “you’re singing in the middle of an opera.” Doyle came back: “in accordance with prophesy.” The woman looked at him unknowing what to say next. Doyle cocked his head like a parakeet and calmly asked her, “Do you hear that?” She answered, “What?” Doyle cooly stated, “Never mind, it’s gone now.” He then launched into another round of singing. The woman summoned the usher, who approached Doyle, but before he could say a word, Doyle asked him, “My good fellow, what gender are you?” The usher would have none of it and asked Doyle to leave. Undaunted, Doyle put his hands over his ears and started screaming, effectively ending the conversation.

We ended up in the street, but Doyle smiled and said, “the singing was number 11 and I gave you a cool dozen to wrap things up.” “What was the 12th,” I wondered aloud. “Mix them all together, my good fellow,” he replied. I nodded and said, “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.” Doyle simply stated, “that’s what you think.”

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Posted on October 27th, 2007 by kyle and filed under RQ |

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