If you play poker, you will inevitably play against some unsavory characters. I suppose in everything we do in life, we have dealings with people we love and people we would rather see trip on the sidewalk and chip a tooth. But poker seems to bring out the creeps sometimes.
Enter Chris Ferguson and Howard Lederer.
As we all know by now, the once high-flying poker celebrities were former board members and founders of Full Tilt Poker and were both responsible for the loss of millions of dollars in player funds on Black Friday. The two, amongst others, were hit with civil suits by the U.S. Department of Justice and both settled with the government in order to avoid jail time.
Wisely, they largely stayed out of the spotlight since 2011, as they certainly would not have been welcome back into the poker community. Lederer sat down for an interview with PokerNews a few years ago, but that was a farce. But now, five years later, they both decided it was time to step out of the shadows and once again play at the World Series of Poker.
Lederer issued a public apology for his role in the Black Friday mess shortly before the WSOP and while I’m sure nobody is thrilled to see him, we haven’t heard too much about him getting verbally abused at the Rio, likely because he at least finally made some sort of effort to say he was sorry. Ferguson, on the other hand, has never addressed the issue. He just showed up this year like nothing happened. And, as expected, Ferguson has had to endure his share of taunts and criticisms (and deservedly so).
Once such incident took place earlier this month during Day 1C of the WSOP Crazy 8’s tournament. Andrew Brokos, a professional poker player and blogger who had $60,000 in Full Tilt funds held up for more than two years, was taking another shot at the event after busting out of an earlier flight and when Ferguson sat down at his table.
“When he arrived at the table, it was a shock,” Brokos wrote on his website. “I couldn’t believe it was happening. I had no idea what to do. No real good could come from confronting him: what did I think, that he was going to cut me a check on the spot? That he was going to break down in tears and confess to everything? I knew that it would only upset me and distract me from the game. Besides, was I just going to attack him out of nowhere? How do you start that conversation?”
Brokos said he felt like he needed to say something, as he had been vocal in the past about how Full Tilt execs had screwed their players, but he sat silent, trembling with anger and nervousness. He had trouble paying attention to the game.
He finally broke his silence, though, when another player was eliminated and shook Ferguson’s hand, saying, “It’s an honor. Glad to have you back.”
We’ll let Brokos take it from here:
That was the final straw, but it was also the icebreaker I needed. “I don’t agree with that, for what it’s worth,” I declared to the table at large. “Anyone else here have money on Full Tilt Poker?”
No one responded. I didn’t know whether the answer was no, or whether I was just speaking so agitatedly that they couldn’t understand me. I locked eyes with the guy who looked most like a former online player. “Did you have money on Full Tilt?”
He removed his headphones. I asked him again. “No,” he told me. I could feel my face reddening. Ferguson still hadn’t said anything, but I certainly had his attention.
“I had $60,000 locked up for over two years,” I said.
“And did you get it back?” Ferguson asked me, as though that would make everything OK.
“That was $60,000 I couldn’t access for two years. No interest.”
“Sorry about that. But you got it back?”
Finally, someone else chimed in. “I had over $9000 in bonuses that I never received,” he said.
“But you got the balance back?” Chris asked.
“No,” I interrupted. “You asked whether we got paid back. The answer is, we got some of what we were owed.”
We just stared at each other for a few seconds after that. There was nothing more to say. I sat back down. My hands were still shaking, and my face was burning, but it was a relief to say something to him.
I’m relieved that I didn’t say anything nasty, and I truly don’t wish him harm or misfortune. But for him just to return to the poker world like nothing happened feels like a denial of all of the harm that Full Tilt did to so many individuals and to our community in general. When I saw him literally being welcomed back, I felt compelled to offer a counterweight to that sentiment.
At least Brokos got a slight bit of revenge, as he was the one to knock Chris Ferguson from the tournament. Ferguson wished him luck, Brokos nodded, and that was that.