Scott Ian Blog

I know that it has nothing to do with poker, but I had to share the video of this mosh pit in Loud Park, Tokyo. Good Times!

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“Beer, the cause of and solution to, all life’s problems.”

That quote is from one of the world’s most famous philosophers; Homer Simpson.

And who better to take advice from? If I would’ve known this as a teenager life would have been so much easier!
My relationship with booze is an odd one. In the throes of my youth booze was what my mom drank before she would turn into the Wolfman and break my G.I. Joe stuff and howl at the world. She’s since worked all of that out and we get along fine. Love you mom! As a post-Bar Mitzvah-now you’re a man without a clue (with that never-been-shaved dirty upper lip) at 14 in NYC in the 70’s, my first forays into drinking were clumsy and strange. My friends and I would forage through our parent’s liquor/drug supplies and imbibe on the city bus at eight in the morning on the way to school. There would be crappy weed (although at the time what did we know?) and some idiot would always bring cough medicine with codeine or a random pill. I stayed away from this stuff. I later found out that the pills were Quaaludes. The real Rorer 714 Ludes of legend. I never tried one because the guys that were taking pills were already known as the “burn-outs.” 14-15 year-olds sleepwalking through junior high listening to the Dead was way to mellow for me man.

The booze usually showed up in a Tupperware container. I would steal my moms Chivas Regal and pour it into a plastic salad bowl and put it in my backpack. Drinking straight Scotch at eight in the morning on a bumpy city bus packed with kids from vinegar-scented Tupperware was the perfect way to teach me not to drink. The few times I tried beer, good’ol brands like Rheingold and Schlitz, it tasted like the dank smell of the old-man bars in my neighborhood where the fathers of my friends would drink from their failure mugs until it was time to go home and be dad. And by be dad I mean pass out on the couch in a dirty wife-beater (literally) and don’t make any fucking noise or you’ll catch a serious beating!!! Yay beer! I tasted all that from just a few sips. My palate was very advanced even at such a young age.
On my eighteenth (that was the legal age then) birthday I drank so many Screwdrivers (Popov Vodka and Tropicana) I puked on the girl I was making out with, puked all over my friend Richie’s bathroom and ended up with alcohol poisoning.

“An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools.”
Ernest Hemingway

I spent the rest of the 1980’s sober. So when I say my relationship is an odd one it’s because I started my band Anthrax in 1981 and through all those formative and then insane years, I wasn’t drinking. People think I must have been out of my mind back then when it was the absolute opposite. I wasn’t straight-edge by any means I just didn’t like booze. All of my friends in other bands were maniacal drinkers and I would once in a while have a few drinks, mainly the far superior beers when we were on tour in Europe, but it would always end up with me feeling like ass. I didn’t see the upside.

In the early nineties I drank socially, weak tasteless Vodka drinks that did nothing more than give me a headache and acid reflux. I tried the Martini thing. That ended badly and Gin holds a grudge. Hanging out in NYC clubs that were then the Tao’s, Pure, and Bungalow 8’s of today it was a time filled with superficial experiences of the highest order and I never made any connection to going out and drinking and actually having fun. I just didn’t get booze.
And then the epiphany…

“There can’t be good living where there is not good drinking.”
Ben Franklin

In 1993 we had a tour manager named Michael “Curly” Jobson who was a wine aficionado. He introduced me to the first alcoholic beverage that tasted like I always imagined it should taste. White Burgundy. Pouilly Fuisse to be exact. It tasted exciting, arousing, fresh, timeless, and most importantly, it tasted good. Wine to me was Manischewitz Heavy Malaga. Wine was something to be tolerated at Passover to keep my grandfather happy. Not any more. Curly opened the door for me into a new world and I never looked back.

I dove into wine headfirst. I learned by drinking. Burgundy, Bordeaux, Riesling, expanding my palate I crossed the sea to California and drank my way through Napa and Sonoma, finding a particular affection for Pinot Noir (makes sense considering it was Burgundy that started it). I crossed the ocean again and started an affair with Italian reds that still burns red-hot today. Would it be too much to name my first-born Gaja? I lost my soul to a bottle of 1989 Chateau d ‘Yquem. Sauternes were truly baby angel’s tears gathered by wizards. There’s no other explanation.

From wine I moved into beer, discovering the glory of Guinness which when properly poured is all that is right in the world in a glass.
My next epiphany came in 1997 when Anthrax and Pantera toured together. Pantera were the opposite of what Anthrax was drinking-wise. These guys were notorious drinkers on a level frequented by few and survived by fewer. Their drummer Vinnie Paul had (and still has) a swimming pool in the shape of a Crown Royal bottle. The hot tub is the top and the bottom of the pool is painted exactly like a Crown Royal label except it says “the official drink of Vinnie Paul.” Commitment. Crown was the drink of choice and they created a shot called the Black Tooth Grin. Shot of Crown, splash of Coke. When you were with Pantera you drank. You drank Black Tooth’s. Their guitar player Dimebag Darrell, bless his amazing soul, would pour them ten at a time and had a litany of rules that went along with drinking them, the most important being “drink it or wear it.” I was not a whisky drinker. Nor was I a whisky wearer so it was a bit of a conundrum for me. Spirits were not my thing. I considered myself a wine snob and above the rabble of cheap booze.

Not for long. The first Black Tooth went down so easy and the next 7000 or so on that tour even easier. I came home after two months of Bukowskian excess (without the whores and ponies), dried out for a week and started my courtship with whisky. Crown Royal quickly gave way to the best small-batch Bourbons and single-malt Scotch’s although I still get my pull on a Black Tooth frequently.

“I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.”
Frank Sinatra

As I sit here typing this I’m sipping a Ron Zacapa 23 year-old Rum from Guatemala. It goes down like melted butter with honey and it will fuck you up.

“They talk of my drinking but never my thirst.”
Scottish Proverb

Over the last eleven years my palate has made friends with all booze (except Gin, oh why do you mock me so Gin??) and I’m always on the hunt for something new. I’ve been on a crazy Amaro kick of late. The mysterious Italian digestive that’s like Jager and Absinthe but it tastes nicer and the blackouts add so much excitement!!
Don’t drink and drive my friends.
Cheers,
Scott

Play poker with Scott at Ultimate Bet
www.ultimatebet.com/scott-ian/?ubAffilID=73329

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Bluffers,
Who the hell let me in here?
That’s a question I’ve often asked myself over the years as I find myself in situations so outside the box of my life as “that guy in that band.”
“Aren’t you that guy from the Chili Peppers?”
Maybe a quick introduction is in order.
I’ve been in a band called Anthrax for twenty-eight years. If that doesn’t do it for you I am also a frequent talking head on VH1’s many list shows. Still think I’m in System Of A Down? Sorry, I’ve done my best.
And what does any of this have to do with poker you’re asking yourself right now?
I won’t bore you with all the details of my entrance into the poker world. They’re well documented in interviews, blogs etc. The ultra-turbo story is I won an Ultimate Bet sponsored VH1 celebrity tourney, a commentating Phil Hellmuth, Jr. told me I had patience and good instincts so your boy (me) started to take poker seriously. I started playing online as much as I could and after going to the 2007 Aruba Classic, Ultimate Bet signed me up and I’ve been kicking ass ever since including winning the Sunday 200K a few months back.
In the two short years I have been playing poker I’ve discovered that I have the same intense drive and determination that I had in the early days of my band, that force of will to make things happen and to accept nothing but success. The odds of starting a band and being able to “make it” in the music business are astronomical. I’ll let Annie Duke figure those out. Accomplishing that insane task gives me the, for lack of a better word, balls, to know that I can be a successful poker player for the rest of my life. Ha, ya think that statement will come back to bite me in the ass??
When Bluff offered me the chance to write a blog I jumped at it because I feel like I bring something different to the table. Don’t get me wrong; I love hand analysis and prop-bet stories (prop-betting is alive and well in the music world and I’ll be blabbing about it) as much as you. The difference here is I straddle two worlds, Rock and Poker, and I’ll be bringing both of those worlds to you my friends in story, picture and video. When I’m done even Doyle will be headbanging!!
Sometimes straddling two worlds can be crazy for me as my schedule is usually pretty nuts and trying to lock stuff in way in advance can be impossible because it seems like there’s always a festival in some impossible to get to backwater that I have to go play. That’s why I missed the WSOP main event last year. I literally flew out of Vegas at 11PM the night before day 1A. Bummed. This year the Rock and Poker Gods had a meeting and decided make a prop bet on me playing the main event. They would align all the planets so I could play, with a catch. My schedule would be so impossible that I couldn’t possibly play, let alone cash or win.
OK, take a deep breath, down your beer and check out my 2009 WSOP main event week.
I flew in to Vegas from Germany on Sunday July 5. Anthrax had just completed a three-week tour playing the Sonisphere Festivals with Metallica all over Europe. I got to Vegas at 8PM, dropped my bags at the Hard Rock and headed straight for the Rio to buy in. I had planned on buying in the night before because I knew (and I was right) that if I waited to buy in the morning of day 1D I would be fucked. I had just traveled 15 hours and I got my ass to the Rio the night before so I have no sympathy for anyone that waited until the last minute and got shut out. Somehow I got to bed by midnight with jet lag and all my excitement to play the main event. I think my body just took control and told my brain to not be an asshole and to let me sleep.
I got to the Rio by 11AM for day 1D. Had a coffee in the Ultimate Bet suite and was off to find my seat. I was so adrenalized about playing I barely felt my feet touching the floor as I walked to my table. Day 1D was a five level blur of intensity and focus. I had AA midway through the day and I fired every street on a Qd 6d 6s 4d 3s board. I bet 7K on the river and he went into the tank for three minutes. He finally called and mucked like the Flash when I showed AA. That got me over 40K. I could’ve played five more levels if I had to. I ended up above average chip stack and was looking forward to the day off while they played day 2A. A side note to that; I had asked about playing day 2A instead of 2B (you’ll find out why in a minute) and was even able to personally ask Jeff Pollack about it but it wasn’t going to happen.
I spent Tuesday doing nothing. Literally. I slept 20 hours preparing for the monster I was going to have to beat in order to make it through the week. Asshole Gods!!
I play day 2B on Wednesday and once again I play my game, stay focused, patient. It paid off as late in the day I found myself with AA again with another player all-in pre flop and another player in the pot. With about 40K in the pot the flop came 8d 6d 3d. I bet 13K and the other player folded. I turn over Ac Ad. The all-in guy has Qs Jh. The turn and river come 7s 5c and I chipped up to 106K. The rest of the day I was slowly draining chips, card dead forever. I stayed scrappy and was in OK shape by the end of it.
The day finished at 1:30AM and I had a little less than average chips. I ran to grab a cab back to the hotel where I would shower, sleep 2 hours and get back in a cab to the airport by 4:30AM. What the hell you say? Where the hell are you going in the middle of the main event? Remember the catch I was talking about earlier? Anthrax had a festival to play in Tulsa Oklahoma on Thursday July 9 (which was the Media Day so I had that day off). So I knew for months that I would be able to play the main, arriving from Europe hours before day 1D and with this one show right in the middle of it. And, if I made it to the final nine, I had to fly out the next day to Sweden to continue the tour. It was a perfect yet insane window.
I got to Tulsa at 2PM and headed out to the festival site, which was an hour drive away. We were headlining the opening night of the Rocklahoma festival. I was already dreading the fact that we were going to be off stage after midnight and then I had an hour drive back to the hotel, shower, no sleep and back to the airport by 4:30AM so I could make it back to the Rio by noon on Friday for day three. The show was killer, awesome crowd and I stored that energy in my reserve tank to help me make it through the next twenty-four hours. I made it to the airport in time and even my connecting flight through Denver was on time. I thought for sure I would be sitting in Denver airport with my Vegas flight delayed as I got blinded off to nothing. I couldn’t believe it. I was actually going to make it. And not only did I make it, the flight was fifteen minutes early and I was able to check in to my new hotel, shower and make the Rio by 11:15AM. Sick. I was feeling pretty good, totally pumped about making day three and through the insanity of the show and travel. I was focused on making it to day four like Quint in Jaws. Nothing would stop me from killing that shark. Or cashing.
Day three was tough. I was in the thirty BB range. Still a lot of time but I was feeling the week and that was letting the pressure get to me. It was hard to stay patient. I was card dead for well over a level and there was no stealing at my table. I had enough chips to raise/fold maybe twice if I wanted to try and steal but I kept folding all the crap and stayed in my game. Finally UTG raises to 3K and I re-raise with Ac Qc from the button to 7500. He calls. The flop comes Kd 9d 2s. He checks and I bet 13,500 and he folds. Finally a little breathing room. The rest of the day went OK and I was going to day four with 152K.
To say I crashed hard is an understatement. I barely remember getting in a taxi from the Rio back to the Palazzo.
I was back for day 4 still pretty burnt but definitely energized by the fact that the bubble would break. I only got involved in one questionable hand about twenty people from the money. Middle position raiser makes it 11K. I re-raise from the BB with AK to 30K. The guy shoves and has me covered. I have 120K behind. I think about it for two minutes and decide to fold. I’d seen this guy play two other hands, AA and QQ. I wasn’t going to race for my tournament life that close to the money. When I folded I showed and he turns over A 10. I was kicking myself but later that day I was OK with the fold. If I call and he spikes a 10, I’d still be crazy over it, really crazy, like pants full of poo fighting a ghost crazy.
Hand for hand took forever and then the bubble burst. I have to admit I was really excited about making the money. My first main event and I cashed. My table broke right after the bubble which was a bummer because now I’d have to deal with eight new players. On top of that my own bubble had burst as well and I could feel the last four weeks pulling me down like hungry zombies. I’d lost my focus and I was just hoping to make the next break so I could regroup. My last hand was J7 in the BB (6K). The SB limped and I checked. Flop comes 10 7 2 rainbow. He bets 6500 and I think he’s lying so I re-raise to 17,500 with 59K behind. He shoves. I should’ve folded but like I said, I’d lost my focus and I called. He turns over AA! A 9 came on the turn increasing my outs but the 4 on the river sunk me and that was that. 637th out of 6494. I’m stoked. Can’t wait until next year.
I headed back to the Palazzo where I celebrated by myself at the bar at Carne Vino and then played $2-4 for a few hours and took a bunch of people’s money.
I drove home to LA the next day and I didn’t get off the couch until Wednesday.
Cheers,
Scott

Play poker with Scott at Ultimate Bet
http://twitter.com/Scott_Ian
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