BBT impresario Al Can't Hang linked me up over at his new work home on the Bloggers From The Rail site on Full Tilt. Al is, of course, a mensch, and the link is most appreciated and his words very kind, but one thing he said just sticks in my craw like a half-swallowed varmint. It's this:
"He's currently running a completely made-up set of "bios" on the WSOP November Nine."
What??! Are you for real? This is pretty hard to chew and even harder to swallow. I think I've been clear from the start that every minute mote of this is gospel. These men are my teachers, my schoolchums, my running buddies. I know them, I know their stories, and I'm going to tell the world about them, even if the powers-that-be tsk-tsk me to death. I even had to burn ESPN to the ground to protect myself and to insure your ability to read about these guys who made the final table. I suppose this assumption of Al's is based on some of the more colorful details in these biographies, but I can't help that, people. I do not embellish; I merely report.
Again, and I'm telling you for the last time. These are the Daves I know, I know. These are the Daves I know.
Name: Kelly Kim
Occupation: Internet Pro, Student, Scrimshander.
Poker Style: Tight-aggressive. When he's aggressive, he's very very aggressive. But when he's tight, he's horrid. He makes Scandinavians nervous. Scandinavians also make him nervous, but that's another story and has to do with herring soaked in lye.
Card Capper: A bust of Stu Ungar carved from a whale's tooth.
Favorite Country Song: Mama Get A Hammer (There's A Fly On Papa's Head), by Digger-Doug Dale.
Brief Bio: Kelly is the youngest of the nine final tablists (he is also the only one with two girl's names, but let's just let that one slide). I used to baby-sit for his younger siblings when he was a high school freshman. Even then he was 8-tabling Party and crushing. He's never played an MTT online before, sticking strictly to cash. Until now he's been completely unknown in the poker world, but famous in trailer parks and nursing homes across the nation, not to mention anywhere in Dollywood or Graceland, for his art.
He's used $475,082 of his online winnings to purchase tons of fossilized whalebone, into which he carves meticulous shapes, mainly of characters from old sitcoms. His Mama's Family whalebone retrospective fetched a record price on QVC. He's carved a scrimshaw replica of every sweater Bill Cosby ever wore. He did a life-sized A-Team out of a blue whale's ribs. He's carved every one of Rachael's hair styles. He did one of Sanford (sans Son) faking "the big one", and every individual Redd Foxx whisker is articulated as clearly as the blades of grass on God's own lawn. The work on the suspenders alone . . . why, he must have sweat blood to get the effect he wanted. Clearly, this is a kid with the determination and patience to win it all.
The other thing about Kelly: He can't jump. No vertical whatsoever. The kid can't clear a stick of gum. I don't know if this will matter in heads-up play, but it's something to think about when you're placing prop bets.
Fun Fact: Kelly will be protested in November not only by Greenpeace, who takes issue with his medium of choice, but also by the Screen Actor's Guild, for use of images without proper approval, and by the nit-picking standards committee of his gated community, which believes that he is in the bylaws forbid him from painting his mailbox whalebone white. They also have a problem with the 43 foot high pile of whale remains in his front yard. And whale remains aren't even mentioned in the bylaws, anywhere. What a bunch of bottle-noses.