LAS VEGAS - It might happen again, Josh Arieh says.
What's more, he says it might happen the exact same way.
Not that he wants to unleash another hellacious torrent of trash talk at some unsuspecting and undeserving opponent the way he torched gentlemanly Brit Harry Demetriou during the final stages of last year's main event in a display that ESPN's World Series of Poker broadcasts could not get enough of.
But buckle up just the same.
"I wasn't trying to embarrass him,'' Arieh says of the famous hand. "I looked back and tried to think why. When that hand came about, it had been four days of thinking I'm going to win the World Series of Poker, and now, my tournament's at stake, everything's in jeopardy in a spot that I didn't think I'd be in. In my mind, I'm fumbling through thoughts of 'Why did this happen? How did it get like this?'''
There was the building pot, then the big confrontation, something that Arieh had deftly avoided in the main event 'til then. And after shoving in and discovering Demetriou did not have the big cards he expected, Arieh let fly and kept going after sucking out to take the pivotal pot that would give him a foundation to capture third place and the $2.5 million that went with it.
Something you didn't see on television, but should have: Arieh's frustration with Demetriou had been festering for a while because Demetriou was making Arieh crazy by controlling Arieh's game even though he was sitting to Arieh's right.
Something you did see on television, but didn't need to: A shot of Arieh and his wife smiling at each other after the hand. Like rubbing it in is part of the family DNA. Problem was, Arieh says his wife was not in the audience. Wasn't even in Vegas. She wouldn't fly in from their home in Atlanta until the next day, delayed while getting over some health problems.
Arieh shot off his mouth but good, and a villain was born.
"I hate to say it,'' Arieh admits in a plaintive, raspy voice, "but it could very easily happen again the exact same way. It's totally immature, it's totally uncalled for, but when emotions run high, I've talked (stuff) my whole life.''
Here's the deal with Arieh: He came right off the street. He came right out of the pool hall. He came with a different set of rules.
"I've been competing for money since I was 14 years old,'' Arieh says. "Pool. Who hits a home run first off a pitching machine. Anything.
"All my life, when people beat me bad, they talked (stuff). It's part of competition. I love competition. I love winning and I love sticking the needle in them and making it worse. Because losing hurts. Losing really hurts, you know? The old saying of it's not whether you win or lose, but how you played the game - no, it's winning. That's why they have championships. That's why they have playoffs. Losing really, really hurts.
"When I came in third, I won $2.5 million, I was out on the street in front of the Horseshoe crying my eyes out. It wasn't first. I didn't win. It's a lot of money, yeah, but I still got knocked out. I'm more of a competitor than I am a poker player. I think that no matter what I do, if it involves competition, I'm going to find a way to rise up and I'm going to find a way to get my opponent off their game and I'm going to flourish.''
Wait a minute. Aren't poker players supposed to be unemotional? Poised? Calm?
"Not me,'' Arieh says. "I get happy, man, when I win. When I'm losing, it hurts. I get to losing and I think there's something wrong with my brain. But when I'm winning, man, it's just flowing.''
Flowing lately, for sure. Arieh, who started atlantapokerschool.com, just captured the WSOP bracelet for Pot Limit Omaha, collecting more than $300,000.
But the impact he made with his main event act continues to turn up as threads on poker websites today. Early on, you'd think vitriol was one of the four major food groups.
"There was a lot of bad stuff,'' Arieh said. "Calling me all sorts of names, calling me unsportsmanlike. It really did affect me for a while.''
So much so, in fact, that he didn't plan to play in the The Borgata event on the World Poker Tour for fear of what he might encounter from the public. I was a little worried myself - not for him, but for me when I approached him at The Borgata. Had to find out myself: punk or person?
And I found a nice guy. Someone with big regrets about the way he came across. Someone apologetic. Someone extremely competitive (we didn't flip for the coffee, but we had to do thje interview around his college football TV schedule).
"I have good friends around me and they all know how I am, and they don't want to compete against me,'' Arieh says. "They might be 10 times the poker player I am, but I'm a better competitor. I understand momentum. I've heard David Sklansky talk about game theory, and I'm sure my definition of game theory is way different than his.''
For some, money is just a way of keeping score. It's the winning - the competition to win - that drives performers. Michael Jordan would bet on who's luggage came down the carousel first. Action, baby.
And when guys like that win, wear Kevlar.
"Look at Jordan,'' Arieh says. "He made it to where everybody thought he was a saint, but running down the court, he's right in the guy's ear - 'I just went to the hole; you can't cover me.'
"It's a thing that builds your confidence when you see it works. If my opponent is thinking about how big of a (jerk) I am or my opponent's thinking 'I'm going to bust that guy, he's such a (jerk),' so what? He's not thinking about playing his hand. He's thinking about getting rid of me. It's going to (mess) with him.''
Funny thing about the explosive Arieh: One of his best friends - and the player who bankrolled him in last year's near-perfect main event and again this year -- is the composed Erick Lindgren. Arieh is the cornerback who'll let everyone know he made a great play; Lindgren is the former all-league high school quarterback who stays cool and processes everything.
"I'm the guy who'll dance on a touchdown,'' Arieh says. "I'm going to go hand the ball to the guy chasing me. Erick will flip it to the ref and go about his business.
"It's how I was brought up. It's part of competition. I hate that it's that way, but it's me.''
Just then, David Williams saunters by. by the empty poker table where Arieh and I have been talking. This is the same cool, young Williams who lasted one spot later in the 2004 main event before also being busted by eventual champion Greg Raymer. Williams is so close to Arieh as a friend, so far away in table image.
Williams wants the $200 he won from Arieh at the fights that night.
"We're betting $100 and he beat me out of $200, and it's killing me,'' Arieh says. You know the things I waste $200 on? And this is killing me.''
And then Williams takes his new C-notes and rubs them in Arieh's face.
Steve Rosenbloom is a regular contributor to ESPN.com and writes a syndicated poker column for the Chicago Tribune.