Jeffrey Izes

@AdamSchefter @DickieV Amen, Adam! There is no one better than Dickie V. Have his autographed autobiography foremost on my bookshelf.

Everybody rooting and praying for @DickieV:

@mroblaz @KevinRothWx Laz!!! You’re a Roth fan too (of course you are. Invaluable indeed!

@KevinRothWx What an invaluable resource you've been (and will continue to be whereever you land). Simply the best in the business

🚨☔️ An important personal note: one final forecast for RotoGrinders…

@jbresl @KevinRothWx THIS is THE best analysis Squirrel has ever provided. Kevin Roth: one of one! You will be missed. Curious to see where you land. G-dspeed, WeatherGod!

@KevinRothWx What an insane thing to happen. Every time we did a show together, and you would say the phrase, I would think in my head "No no, YOU'RE the real best in the business." And that's still true.

@RealKidPoker Plesac is THE best!!!! He’s the only guy on Sports Television that can authentically rival Charles Barkley and his crew in the NBA

I mean, this is one of the most precise and accurate sports predictions in history. Wow!

@KristyArnett @Amo4sho Great story, Kristy! Thanks for sharing.

Poker was different when we were kids than it is now that we have kids. In our twenties, if Andrew @Amo4sho or I made a final table, a group text would go out and within an hour, our friends would show up to the casino rail with beers in hand. Once, when I made an FT at Venetian, Andrew torpedoed his stack in a tournament at Planet Hollywood so he could be there. He’d rather bust than miss cheering me on. I didn’t say it then, but I felt how much we belonged to each other back then. We’d scream, cheer, and flag down the cocktail waitress for celebratory shots. And no matter what place we finished, we’d celebrate—usually with an overpriced bottle of liquor at some club, trying to act like we mattered because we could afford a couch by the DJ booth. Then, Andrew and I would stumble back to our place hand in hand, kick our shoes off—letting them land with a thud at the door—then fall into bed in a tangle of limbs, drunk on tequila and adrenaline, and talk about every hand until we passed out. Not a care in the world. Not a damn thing to do the next day. Now, it’s different. After the long stretch of the World Series of Poker this summer when we didn’t see much of Andrew, we were finally back in rhythm as a family at home in Austin. Maya said “Dada” for the first time. Miles started waking up early just to build monster truck arenas with Andrew before breakfast. After weeks of distance, we’d all reconnected. But soon enough, it was time for another trip—Andrew was flying to Northern California to play the $2,700 Main Event at Rolling Thunder. We drove him to the airport and kissed him goodbye. Maya waved, and Miles yelled, “Run good, play good!” from his car seat. Before walking through the sliding doors, he turned back for a moment and we caught eyes. I smiled and waved. He smiled back, but we both knew that our smiles were hiding something. Andrew loves being a poker player. It’s his passion, and his passion supports our family financially. I love being home with the kids. It’s given my life meaning. And yet, as he left, I think we both felt sadness. Our smiles were the kind you give when you’re pretending it’s all okay. Mine covered a flicker of envy. Maybe I missed my identity as a poker player, when I wasn’t just a mom. His covered guilt. Maybe he felt bad leaving again. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he wished he could stay home. Maybe I was worried about not contributing by working. I think we both sometimes wonder, are we doing the right thing? Andrew’s flight ended up canceled. Then rebooked. Then delayed. He was upset. I’m away from you guys for this? He ended up missing the first starting day entirely. He only had one shot: Day 1B. And he crushed it. With around 80 players left, Andrew had a big stack. Then he got into a hand—check-raised the flop, barreled the turn and river, then faced a shove. He tanked, then folded a flush. His opponent proudly tabled a bluff. Andrew admitted what he folded. Another player at the table, who’d been running well, looked at him over her huge stack and said, in a condescending tone, “Oh honey, you can’t fold a flush there,” as if Andrew was some washed-up has-been and she was the new sheriff. He said it felt like the table relished in watching the big bad pro stumble. Like they’d been waiting all day to see him get it wrong. The version of Andrew in his 20s might’ve shot back with a jab. Or melted under the pressure and tried to force the next big play, trying to prove himself. Because back then, Andrew always wondered if he’d just gotten lucky, and that any minute, everyone would find out he wasn’t as good as he seemed. But the version of Andrew in his 40s took a deep breath. He knew, from experience, that folding the best hand isn’t always weakness. Sometimes it’s wisdom. If you never fold the winning hand, you’re calling too much. The bigger test is whether you can fold the best hand and still play well after. Andrew looked down at his now-short stack and said to himself: Okay. Let’s see what we’re made of. And he climbed back. Slowly. Quietly. Until he made the final table as chip leader. At the dinner break, he FaceTimed us. I told Miles, “Daddy is trying to win a trophy.” Andrew rubbed his forehead and said, “Yeah, buddy. But it’s been really hard.” Miles jumped up, put Grave Digger in front of the camera and said, “Take a monster truck and smash everybody!” We laughed. Then Miles repeated something I say to him often: “You know you can do hard things, Dada.” Andrew smiled. “That’s great advice, buddy.” Sometime around 10:30 PM in California—12:30 AM for me—I was in bed, Miles’ foot lodged in my back, Maya latched and half-asleep on my chest, scrolling in the dark, refreshing updates with one hand, until I read the final one. Andrew Moreno is the Main Event Champion. $200,000. No cheering rail. No shots. No victory lap. I wished I could have been there with him. To hug him. To sit on his lap for a winner’s picture. To go for steak and eggs and talk about every hand. I felt that familiar swell in my heart, the butterflies in my stomach, just now in a silent room. When we were kids, poker was about proving we mattered. Maybe part of it still is. But now, with kids, it also feels like something deeper. Something more meaningful. Maybe to belong. Maybe to provide. Maybe to become the humans we want our kids to learn from. I thought about this as I read the updates while listening to Miles’ little stuffy nose whistle. Then Andrew texted: We did it. The phone glowed as I read it. I smiled. That’s what he always says now, when he wins a tournament. We did it. Not “I.” And that small word—we—reminds me that we, from the time we were kids to now, are still in this together. I texted back: I’m so proud of you. Andrew: It was really hard today Me: Good thing Miles gave you some good advice Andrew: He really did I pulled the kids closer and closed my eyes, knowing, for the first time, that the "we" Andrew was talking about… was all of us. (if you've made it this far, thank you! And I have a substack now- check link below)

@ChidwickStephen Best Poker Tweet EVER! That was amazing, young man. Better than ANYTHING you’ve ever done on the felt.

Hello X. Many of you will know me as a top poker player who doesn’t say very much, and for a long time, I guess I didn’t really think I had much of value to say. I’ve kept a low profile for most of my life. I’ve built my career with a quiet determination and focus on the things I could control—my preparation, my decisions, my consistency. “I don’t waste my time with social media,” I told myself. And while that decision was undoubtedly the right one for me at the time, the reasons were fabricated—or at least incomplete. What I didn’t admit so explicitly was my fear: fear of criticism, of vulnerability, and of my inability to control my own obsessive nature. I would almost certainly meet the criteria for autism spectrum disorder. I would almost certainly meet the criteria for bipolar disorder, though I never stuck around long enough after an episode to receive a formal diagnosis (whether or not I identify with these labels is a topic for another day). I’ve known the isolation of being forcibly separated from society, for my own protection, and wondering how I got there. I’ve experienced being so socially drained from a day of live poker that I’ve gone to sleep hungry. Not because I was so focused that I lost my appetite, but because those one or two brief human interactions required to feed myself were just too much. I know how absurd that sounds—I knew it back then too—but no amount of rationality stopped it from being true. Over time, I slowly adapted. I learned how to sublimate that anxious energy and turn it into a motivating force—into an obsessively focused drive to reach my potential as a poker player, to prove my worth to the world through external accomplishments. And then the validation I was seeking started coming. In 2019, I was voted by my peers in a CardPlayer magazine survey to be the best player in the world—my dreams had become reality. My ego had a field day, but it wasn’t long before I realized there was still a piece missing. Now that I was painted as “the best”, there was no margin for error. Despite everything I had accomplished, I was no less fragile. Every misstep felt like a threat to the whole narrative. Am I slipping? Am I getting old and complacent and lazy? How much longer can I keep tricking people into thinking I’m so good when I know how big my mistakes can be? And none of that even touched the root of what I was actually seeking underneath it all—to be accepted. So when someone threw out an offhanded criticism—“boring,” “robotic,” “no personality”—I took it to heart. Because somewhere in me, I was scared they were right. Driven by my desire to be the best poker player I could be, I started doing deeper inner work—peeling back the layers of my belief structure and examining what was uncovered. Why did I feel like I had to be perfect to be worthy? What was I really seeking through my success? Uncomfortable investigations that slowly but surely started to free me from my preconceived notions of who I was and who I should be. And I saw the benefits—in my performance at the table, yes—but more so in my day-to-day interactions with my family, my friends, casual acquaintances, and even total strangers. The progress empowered me and urged me onwards. The more I leaned into vulnerability, honesty, and trust in others, the more confident, authentic, and self-assured I felt. I’m learning to listen not only to my precious logic but also to the quiet, mysterious, unexplainable voice within. The voice that speaks when _I_ am silent. The voice that now compels me to write this—and to expose it for the world to see. And so here I am—the kid inside the robot costume. Just another human being in pursuit of love, of connection, of belonging. Tired of running from my shadow and ready to stop and turn around (I hope). This message is for anyone who feels trapped in the darkness. I’ve lived through times that felt unbearable—where the idea of peace, or connection, or even a quiet mind felt impossibly far away. If you’re in that place right now, I want you to know: it can get better. You’re not broken. You’re not beyond help. Keep going. I also want to thank all the people who saw something in me that I took a long time to see in myself and guided me down this path. Some will know who they are. Others may never realize how much a small gesture meant to someone who was struggling. I’m deeply grateful for all of you. TL;DR: Hi, I’m new here. PS my intention is to be quite intermittent in my engagement with social media, at least initially, so if you reach out to me and I don’t respond please don’t take it personally.

@RealKidPoker Really well said by two of the folks that I respect the most in the PokerVerse @miw210 . And what an achievement by the grinder @TheGrinder44.

Maybe the greatest WSOP in the 50+ year history

@JoshuaArieh @e_tay @TheGrinder44 The people’s champ indeed! Great run, E!

@e_tay @TheGrinder44 The people’s champ!

Still in shock. So surreal to have a run like that and I enjoyed every second of it! Congrats to @TheGrinder44 for a dominating performance, was just happy to be in there battling with the best! It's about the passion & people for me & I so appreciate you all. Till next time! 🙏🏼❤️🎉

@elicalebon Brilliant stuff, Ms. Le Bon.

They warned you this day was coming

@MattGlantz @AveryGlantz Tremendous! Almost as athletic as her pops. Almost…

Do one thing that scares you every day... @averyglantz?si=y1ZF-IV_EPn5zdaW" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener">youtube.com/@averyglantz?s…

@Shane_Melert Best post ever! Already want to stick a fork in my eyeball

Some of you are stuck at home and couldnt make it to #wsop this year. This one's for you guys 🤙

@basebaldy Yes. Immensely.

Does the E at the end of NLHE bother anybody else?

@jollywipradio That was the first word I had written in my original tweet…then changed it.

@JeffIzes Dang

Yes!!!

@YassamSam Let us not forget your peddling in lies and propaganda!

LET US NOT FORGET THIS INNOCENT STARVING LITTLE GIRL IN GAZA 🇵🇸

@JClarkNBCS @JoshRultNews Those are some SWEET looking buses! sterlinglimoservice.com

The Eagles have arrived at the White House for their Super Bowl championship celebration 🎥 @JoshRultNews

@MattGlantz MG en fuego hoy día!!!

When you want to defend someone's actions, but can't understand said actions, the easiest way to cope is to chalk it up to 4D Chess. This way you can let it all play out and do not have to admit you are wrong. But eventually reality is going to hit you like a ton of bricks.

@garpike28 @MarchMadnessMBB @CBSSports Ha! Indeed, but I was talking about the folks on @cbssports and @TBSNetwork who are paid to analyze the game…instead of shilling for the tournament

@JeffIzes @MarchMadnessMBB @CBSSports Everyone on Twitter! 😆

Tremendous shot by Queen for the Terps. But is anyone going to mention the full 3 steps he took? @MarchMadnessMBB #MarchMadness @CBSSports

@RealAdamBowen @BarstoolBigCat @elio82 …and my brother from another mother, George Gervin too…that guy to whom BigCat refers is 3rd at best…

@BarstoolBigCat @elio82 @JeffIzes might disagree

The man traveled to Columbus to get us goals. There is only ONE ICE MAN!!!! @elio82