Second to Phil Ivey as the all-time money earner in poker, Daniel Negreanu is a certifiable tourney force. Chronicling his rise to greatness were ESPN cameras seemingly fused at his hip through the earlier part of the decade, eager observers to this happy-go-lucky Canadian who had fresh lunches prepared for him daily by his mom. It was during this time that he was silently anointed some sort of hold’em ambassador, his mug inescapable now as a result of the overexposure, plastered relentlessly on the late-night poker television broadcasts of today. After years of televised poker loyalty and two hours of watching him Sunday night, his voice makes me feel like there’s a parasite in my head eating away at a tumor on my brain. Daniel Negreanu needs to shut up.

Negreanu is essentially no better than that socially awkward person at a party that butts his way into a knitting circle and tries to fit in by rambling about what everyone already knows with authority while anxiously nodding like a bobblehead and chuckling at himself. It may be easier to perceive him as a small child desperately trying to join in to the conversation being held at the adult table at Christmas. No matter how you interpret his annoying persona, he wants attention, needs to be at the center of the atmosphere, and will stop at no cost of malignant jokes, his own laughter at said malignant jokes, and blatantly obvious observations about completely unnecessary things to get it.

I’ve actually grown to enjoy seeing him lose hundreds of thousands of dollars on High Stakes Poker because it seems to be the only thing that shuts him up, which is probably why I enjoy the show in general. Over the first five seasons alone,  he lost over $1.7 million, which beats the next eight biggest losers combined. Including his season six losses, he has gone on to donate over $2 million back into the poker economy, keeping him almost bearable in the process and leaving me with less of an urge to stretch out duct tape. Sure, he’s earned $12,741,210 in his career across tourneys in the US and Europe, but losing 1/6 of that has to be demoralizing no matter who you are, as evidenced by how much quieter he gets by as taping progresses into the final episodes of the season.

He certainly isn’t an egomaniac, patting himself on the back with the inane ramblings of his own voice, a la Phil Hellmuth.  I actually wish he was though, because at least his ceaseless commentary, high-pitched cackle, and his faux hipster attempts at humor would be something to laugh at.

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