Lee Davy shares his experience of the treatment of the dealers of the World Series of Poker, noted after playing in three of the first 10-events.

He looks like Donald Sutherland, not the Kelly’s Heroes Sutherland, but The Hunger Games Sutherland. The grey hair reminds me of my Grandfather. I can see him struggling up the hill, his cane in one hand, and his dog in the other. He was like a small elephant, each step so deliberate. Each breath sounding like his last. I never knew why he lived at the top of that hill. He said the workout would extend his life. It ended up killing him.

Back to the dealer sat at our table; Mr. Sutherland. Or ‘Ron’ as his nametag implies. I wonder how many World Series of Poker’s (WSOP) Ron has dealt? He must be in his seventies. I bet he knew Johnny Moss. I bet he dealt hands to Stu Ungar.

I look at his eyes. They have seen it all. He reminds me of an Ent, a wise old tree, and an integral part of the world. I imagine there are roots beneath his feet. He is connected to the core. It’s what lights his fire. But today that fire is out. The dampness emerges from his voice. He seems fed up. I think he wants to go home, put his feet up, and watch black and white movies.