David Sklansky

It’s hard to believe we’re saying goodbye to David. January 1st, 1948, brought a mind like no other into the world, and it’s a world that feels a little dimmer without his particular brand of brilliance. I met David back in the early 90s, a wide-eyed kid just starting to get into poker, and he immediately took me under his wing. He wasn’t just a great player; he was a genuinely kind and generous soul. I remember one night, we were playing a low-stakes game, and I was completely losing, convinced I was terrible. Instead of offering pity, he sat me down and, with that characteristic twinkle in his eye, started explaining the underlying probabilities, breaking down the game into its simplest components. He didn’t just teach me how to win; he taught me *why* I was playing, and that’s what made all the difference. He had this incredible ability to make complex ideas feel accessible, and he always did it with a patient smile and a healthy dose of humor. David’s passion for poker was legendary, of course, and his work – particularly “The Theory of Poker” – truly revolutionized the way we think about the game. But beyond the strategy and the analysis, he loved the human element, the stories at the table, the thrill of the bluff, and the camaraderie of fellow players. He was a devoted husband to his beloved Sarah, and a wonderfully supportive father to Emily and Ben. Their family was everything to him, and he beamed with pride watching them grow. He’d spend hours teaching Emily about probability, much to her initial frustration, and patiently explaining the nuances of a good hand to Ben. He wasn’t one for grand gestures, but his love was constant and deeply felt. He approached everything with that same methodical, thoughtful approach – whether it was a complex poker hand or a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. He was a collector of obscure books, a fan of classic jazz, and always, always tinkering with some new project, usually involving a spreadsheet and a healthy dose of curiosity. More than anything, David wanted to share his knowledge and help others understand the world around them, and he did that with an open heart and a brilliant mind. David’s impact on the poker community, and on so many of us personally, is immeasurable. He wasn’t just a player or an author; he was a mentor, a friend, and a truly remarkable human being. We’ll miss his sharp wit, his insightful observations, and his unwavering belief in the power of logic and kindness. Rest in peace, David.