He’ll Try to Keep a Poker Face -- or Just Save Face

It seems that David Jones fancies himself a card shark, playing host to a game of poker at his home every Saturday night, and while it’s my civic duty to pass that address on to the local vice squad, I find it amusing that David, who prefers to be called, “Deacon,” is about to feel what it’s like to be sacked.

The World Poker Tour has invited David to participate today in the Texas hold ‘em craze in a celebrity invitational in the Commerce Casino, extending the same invite to Page 2, with the obvious expectation, of course, that brains and beauty will win out over brawn and ugly.

Other celebrities scheduled to compete against poker pros include Ed Asner, James Woods, Marilu Henner, Mimi Rogers and Ray Romano, with the last celebrity remaining in the game earning $5,000 for his or her charity of choice, and potentially a chance to play in the world championship in Las Vegas.

I told David he’d be long gone by then.

“I still walk around upright with not a mark or scratch on me,” he growled. “The reason for that is that everybody tried to get Deacon Jones, but instead I kicked their [butt]. You know what, I’m going to wipe that floor with you.”

I know you might find this surprising, but I hear that all the time, but usually from someone wearing a Dodger uniform.

In this case we have a former football player for the Rams, you know, just like Chris Everett. Sorry, Jim Everett.

I suppose there’s some difference. David is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame for falling on top of quarterbacks 173 1/2 times, which can’t be that tough after watching Everett’s phantom sack and knowing someone got credit for it. David was also a member of the Fearsome Foursome, although it’s hard to believe these days that the Rams ever had anyone who was considered fearsome.

“I’m gonna call Merlin Olsen, and he’s not going to believe what he’s hearing from some little pipsqueak sportswriter,” David said, “and I’m going to bring him with me, and fly Rosey Grier in here, too.”

I told him, “I’m not surprised you’d need some help to beat a sportswriter,” and David replied somewhat thoughtfully, “I’m going to mash you into the dirt.”

It’s probably going to come as somewhat of a surprise to David when he learns they clean their floors in the Commerce Casino and there will be no dirt. There will also be a sign posted reminding players no head slaps will be allowed.

“I can’t believe a sportswriter is calling me out,” David said, while agreeing to write a $100 check to Cure Autism Now if he’s knocked out of the poker tournament before the brains and beauty leave the room.

“You can write your $100 check to the Deacon Jones Foundation,” he said, and I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for dreamers like David.

Personally, I’m kind of hoping when they do the random draw today to see where everyone sits, David will be placed next to the Unabomber, one of the hottest players on the poker tour who is also dating Jennifer Tilly.

The Unabomber wears a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses and has been known to jump up and down and roll around the floor during a hand. I’d probably behave the same way if dating Jennifer Tilly, but the look on David’s face if the Unabomber tries that would be priceless.

“You can’t distract me,” David said. “I know what you’re doing, and you can’t pull me away from I’m going to do.

“But I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I’ve got to be the baddest dude I know, and you’re just a sportswriter,” he continued. “People like you used to be scared to call me for an interview. When we traveled we used to play cards with The Times’ writers, and they were like pigeons, we were taking their money left and right.”

That’s why we have expense accounts now at The Times.

“If I lose to a sportswriter I’m going to leave the country, forfeit my citizenship,” David said, and I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. “I’ll go back to Iraq where I was last March. It’s the most dangerous place on Earth, but I’ll spend a year there. That’s how confident I am that I’m not going to lose.”

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TWO YEARS ago, Laker owner Jerry Buss won the hand that knocked me out of the invitational less than 90 minutes into the event. Last year, it took 95 minutes to lose the $10,000 they give each player, and at least I got to feel like the wife when she goes shopping.

“You didn’t even last two hours?” David crowed.

This might explain why David is so confident.

But what do you think the chances are of a football player who knows only one thing -- charging forward on every play -- lasting for any length of time in a game that demands finesse and the insight to know when to fold and play another hand?

Obviously, you won’t be able to bluff the guy, but then everyone at the table will know he’s easy pickings, ripe to go all in on a hand he can’t win. Thanks for the memories, David.

“I do everything aggressively, you know that,” he said, “but you don’t know my game. You will read nothing in my eyesight, but the cold stare that all those offensive tackles saw before I ran over their [butts]. I’m 66 years old, but listen, when I say, ‘boo,’ people still move back.”

I’ll be too busy chatting with Mimi and Marilu, of course, to notice David when he says, “boo-hoo,” and gets cleaned out. I just hope I get the chance to say goodbye, and remind him to write that check.

I’d hate to have to get really tough with David.

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TICK, TICK, TICK ... nothing, and so much for the Laker trade that Jack Haley guaranteed would happen in 48 hours. Haley went on TV Tuesday and said there would be no trade for Utah’s Carlos Boozer and I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe him.

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AL MICHAELS was eating dinner in the Chick Hearn media room before the Laker game -- 25 years to the day he called the U.S. hockey win over the Soviet Union. Do you believe in miracles? No, he didn’t pay for his $5 media meal like everyone else.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.