Poker Faces in the Crowd: Robert Harwell

In the spring of 2006, Robert Harwell was working an engineering job sixteen feet above the ground. He fell. Landing on his back, Harwell struck a steel shaft and his spine folded inward. An ambulance rushed him to the hospital. The next five years were filled with spinal surgeries, pain meds, and a ferocious desire to walk again. They also marked a career change from engineering to poker, a game that he learned as a boy growing up in Jonesboro, Georgia. Now a versatile poker pro who plays highstakes cash games and a smattering of tournaments, Harwell lives in Florida with his wife, Kelly, his son, Mason, and his daughter, Jayden.

I met Harwell in Las Vegas during the World Series of Poker. We had lunch at Yardhouse, a brew pub on the Strip, two days after he finished the Main Event in 414th place for $28,356. We discussed growing up in Georgia, recovering from a spinal injury, Will “Monkey” Souther, and Harwell’s deep run in the Main Event.

How did you first get into poker?

When I was fourteen years old I shot pool and played cards to help my mom pay for her house. My parents divorced when I was young and my mom was struggling, she worked three jobs. In my local games in Georgia, I picked things up real fast — we mainly played [seven card stud] eight-or-better. Years later, after Moneymaker and the Boom, I decided to go to my first tournament series at the IP [Hotel and Casino Poker Classic] when I was about 28. I got fifth in the first tournament I played there, and I also went deep in the Main Event.

After those events, I was fixin’ to travel a good bit for poker, and I started to set up a schedule. That month, in April 2006, I was on an engineering job — my forte was industrial robotics and robotic control — and I fell sixteen feet. There was a steel shaft on the side of the machine, I landed flat on my back, and it folded me in half the wrong way. The lower seven levels of my spine were just obliviated, they were gone, and I shattered my left kneecap, broke my wrist, broke my jaw. I was in so much pain.

Over five years, I had six spine surgeries. After my fourth surgery the doctors said I’d never walk again. For six months I laid in bed and couldn’t move the lower half of my body. I went to a real dark mental place and told my wife: “I’m either going to commit suicide or I’m going to walk again.” I knew I had two more surgeries coming up, and I told her to order me a walker. She and my son would hold me up and I’d be shaking on that walker, there’d be a puddle of sweat on the floor. Your brain’s telling your legs to move and they not moving. It was the most frustrating thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. After about six months my right leg slid forward — it just slid, it didn’t pick up or nothin’ — and when it did, we all broke down in tears, and I thought to myself: “I’ve got this. I’ll walk again.”

It took me about six months to get from my bed to my bedroom door on my walker. After another year I could get to the mailbox on my walker. It was brutal. I spent another year on my walker, and another on my cane, and had two more surgeries. Then, at the end of 2012, I started playing live poker again.

What were your games back then?

When I played online, I played mid-stakes cash. I wouldn’t play high limits because I was on an absurd amount of pain medicine and my head wasn’t right. I was on Fentanyl, which is stronger than morphine, and I was on Oxycontin and Oxycodone for breakthrough pain. With that and all my nerve medicine, my mental state was not good.

How’s the pain now?

I’ll have pain the rest of my life, but the medicine keeps it at bay. I’ve gotten meds down to the bare minimum: I take Oxycontin twice a day, and I’ll take Oxycodone if I’m hurting too bad. I’ve pretty much gotten off everything else. I’m able to function normally, I’m able to walk. I just have to be aware of elevation changes like stepping off a curb or something. It’s not easy because I’m always hurting. But I need to deal with it if I want a normal life.

You’ve been longtime friends with Will “Monkey” Souther, and this year you’re part of his group Monkey’s Minions, which staked six players in this year’s Main Event. You mentioned to me that Souther is banned from playing at the WSOP.

Yeah. When Monkey was younger, he was wild. He drank a lot more. Now that he’s had a kid and he’s grown up, he’s a lot more mature. The problem is that all of that stuff happened when he was young and drinkin’ and he didn’t have a family.

What exactly happened?

My understanding is that Monkey was at a tournament series in Hammond, he had busted inside the money, and he stood at his seat waiting, and waiting, and waiting for someone to walk him to the payout desk. Finally he had walked up to this Russian dealer and said, “Can you escort me to pick up my thousand?” We all knew this dealer, she didn’t speak good English, and she thought that he was propositioning her. She got offended, reported him, everything got blown out of proportion. And then, because they’d had so many disagreements in the past, [WSOP tournament director] Jack Effel said, “He’s done.” So Monkey was 86’d from all Caesar’s properties.

How long has the ban been in effect?

About eight to ten years, I’m not exactly sure. But Monkey does so much for poker. Like the Minions: he’s putting five to seven players in the Main Event every year. He says nothing but good stuff about the World Series, and all he wants is a second chance. I wish they’d give it to him.

As one of Monkey’s Minions in this year’s Main Event, what jumps out to you from the experience?

I was pretty card dead every day, and went into Day 2 with 55,000, which I felt great about. We were still super deep and I had a good table draw. Michael Binger was at my table, and he ran into a really rough spot. Binger had four-bet Daniel Johnston to 40,000 with two kings preflop, and then Johnston five-bet shoved for about 170,000.

Did Binger tank?

Binger snap-called. He knew he was ahead. Then Johnston stands up, says, “I need to get lucky,” and turns over ace-queen offsuit. We were all like, “What the heck!” That’s a massive all in for Day 2. The flop was queen-jack-ten. The turn was a king, giving Binger a set and Johnston a straight, and the river was a brick. It took Binger thirty minutes to catch his breath. He was livid. And he’s so respectful, he’s not gonna say anything bad. It was horrible.

There was nobody at my Day 3 table until about three hours in, when [8-time WSOP Circuit Event ring winner] Valentin Vornicu sat on my right.

Have you played with him before?

I have. He’s wide open: if he’s running good, then he’s gonna have a monstrous amount of chips or he’ll go broke. And he had a ton of chips on Day 3. If the pot hadn’t been opened before him, then he opened one hundred percent of pots. One hundred percent. I never got involved with him but for one hand, when the blinds were 800/1,600 and I had just over 200,000. Valentin opens to 3,500, I flat him on the button with pocket threes, and both the blinds call — an aggressive Euro guy from the small blind and an older recreational player in the big blind. The flop comes three, seven, jack, with a flush draw. Action checks to Valentin, who bets, and I put in a sizeable three-bet. The small blind folds, the old guy flat calls, and Valentin mucks. The turn was the four of clubs, which doesn’t complete the flush draw but it does gut a straight. The old guy checks, I bet 50,000 and he min-clicks me to 50,000. I think to myself, “Can this guy really have five-six here?” So I call the fifty, knowing if the board don’t pair I’m probably gonna fold if he fires out at me. Of course the river bricks, the guy bets 85,000, and I eventually muck. He tells me, “Good fold, young man,” and shows the five-six of hearts — no flush draw on the flop. He gutted his straight like it was nothing, so my set went down the toilet.

This is your second time playing the Main Event. What are your thoughts on the field in general?

It’s such a great mix of recreational players and solid pros. I absolutely love the tournament. It’s structured for the better players with deep starting stacks and two-hour levels. There are a lot of minefields that you have to dodge. Recreational players put you in bad situations even when they don’t realize what they’re doing: like calling one-third of your stack with a gutshot and hitting a straight.

I don’t think I could fold in your spot. I wouldn’t expect someone to cold-call from the blinds with a gutshot.

That’s the thing. They do it. So you have to have that possibility in the back of your mind. And for that guy to min-click the turn and lead 85,000 on the river? He had to have it. I felt confident about folding.

You eventually busted on Day 4 well inside the money. What happened?

Blinds were 6,000/12,000, Tim Burt opens from late position to 28,000, the button flatcalls, and I’m in the small blind with 425,000. I’m never folding, I know I’m ahead of both of their ranges, so I shove to collect the 90,000 that’s already in the middle. The big blind instantly overshoves for 500,000 with ace-king, the other two guys fold and say they both mucked an ace. The flop is seven, seven, four, the turn’s the case ace, the river’s a nine. I needed to fade in that one spot. Just couldn’t hold.

Having been a poker pro for about four years, how satisfied are you with the lifestyle?

I love it. You’re not tied down anywhere. If you’re successful, poker gives you a lot of freedom. You can see a lot of places. I love the time I can spend with my family.

There are so many pitfalls that prevent people from being successful in the poker world. What do you think separates you from others?

To me, the most important thing, whether in cash games or tournaments, is to find ways to lose the minimum during downswings. Sometimes a downswing will hit and you can’t shake it. Sometimes you have to completely reconfigure the way you play, whether that’s nitting it up or something else. A lot of people can’t do that and, when they hit a downswing, they’re broke.

*originally published in the August 2016 issue of Two Plus Two Magazine