Buh-bye, Will Kassouf

In celebration of the Main Event bustout of one of poker's most despised players, Britain's Will "Palm Sunday" Kassouf, here are a couple of personal Kassouf anecdotes.

Did you know that Will Kassouf is truly a pimple on the ass of poker? Kenny Hallaert deserves our thanks for finally sending Kassouf out of the WSOP on Day 7 of the Main Event, after which Kassouf was marched to the payout window to be processed. Then, after Kassouf collecting his winnings, he was then evicted from the remainder of the 2025 WSOP.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen the WSOP employ a delayed ban during the Main Event, but if I were tell the full story of the other one, I might get a ban myself. Still, I might do just that at some point, as some stories really do deserve to be told… or coreected. This time out, though, it’s about Kassouf and his escalating run of bad, confrontational behavior that got him the long overdue boot.

What outsiders and viewers from afar don’t understand is that Kassouf has always been a horrible, intentionally confrontational man whenever he’s been at the WSOP. That behavior, as you may not fully appreciate, has extended away from the table, too. Kassouf, in trying to package his behavior as intentional “word play” at the table, skews the picture. Instead, he really does try to go through life, or at least the entirety of the WSOP, trying to be intentionally disruptive and confrontaional whenever and however he can. I’ll share a couple of personal encounters for you to judge. One I was directly involved in, and the other I witnessed from about five feet away.

Both of these tales took place in 2018, I believe, though it could have been 2019. I was working for the WSOP as a reporter when both of these encounters occurred.

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Fuckin’ with the rail

As most of you know, during its last few years at the Rio, virtually all the Day 2 and Day 3 action was held in the Amazon Room. One day, in the northeast corner of the room, and at the very first tables on the right if you entered from the east, action was down to three tables or so in God knows what event. Kassouf was among 20 or so people on the rail, chatting with what I presume were friends, if not captives of some sort.

Then I noticed something odd: Kassouf was standing just inside the rail, while his friends and all the other watchers were just outside the rail. So I sauntered over to the TD, who I knew pretty well, said hi, and asked, “Did you see Kassouf over there standing inside the rail?”

“I’m trying hard not to notice,” the TD responded.

“Allow me,” I replied with a smile. Now, the WSOP does allow certain multiple-bracelet winners to wander inside the rails, but Kassouf, hell, I don’t think he’s ever even made a final table, and he was already widely known as an ass pimple above and beyond his 2016 ME run. The dude was certainly not allowed to be where he was.

So I wandered down to where Kassouf was smugly standing inside the rail, and I unclipped the rail from one of its endposts. Then I turned and walked toward Kassouf, but directly behind him, motioning his friends and the other watchers back just a few inches.

Once past Kassouf, I turned around and walked in front of him, re-strecthing out the rail from the other post. I gave him the same small wave to move back (and he did), and then I reclipped the rail in place. I didn’t say a word, and I don’t think he did either, but — voila! — he was back outside the rail where he belonged.

My adjustment didn’t have anything to do with the action at the tables and I was wearing my badge, so I was almost kinda sorta authorized to scoot him out of there, and he didn’t challenge it. Of course, about 30 or so other players and watchers got to see it, and if he’d hav made a scene, I’d have just called the security guy over, who was only 15 or 20 feet away.

And if it embarrassed Kassouf a little bit, that was a bonus. But honestly, with whatever issue the man has, I don’t think he is capable of feeling embarrassment. Meanwhile, I’d done my good deed for the day.

Messing with Mothership security

Same series, but at the very end, on the final day of the Main Event. The Mothership, also known as the primary feature table, had access for fans, but only a limited number. I don’t remember if it was one of the years where they gave each person a little coupon to show the security guards to get to the fan seating or if they just kept strict count of the number of fans, but it was closely monitored either way.

I was at a seat on the left-hand side, at one of several media tables there, and I was at the very closest seat to where the security guards occasionally admitted watchers as others left. I was just across the narrow walkway fom where the PN guys wer closely watching and updating the chip counts and card hands. The security guard on duty was maybe four or five feet in front of me.

As it went, the guard on duty at this moment was a woman, and after getting a message on her radio, she raised two fingers to the waiting line of fans, meaning that the first two in line could enter. Apparently she’d been messaged that two railbirds had exited over on the other side.

One fan walked up and the security guard waved him in. Another fan followed and was also granted entry. And immediately after the second person went through, Kassouf charged up and bum-rushed the security guard, blasting right through her extended arm. She went in a few feet and tried to get him to come out, and he either refused or ignored her entirely.

The guard came back to her post and got on her radio. Barely a minute later, another security guard arrived. A very big, muscular security guard. The first guard pointed out Kassouf to the second guard, who then went in after in. No more than 20 or 30 seconds later, Kassouf emerged to my viewpoint, moved almost as fast past me in the opposite direction, with Mr. Burly Guard right behind.

Buh-bye, Kassouf.

It’s an over-and-over-and-over again tale for this clown, this professional agitator. It’s amusing to note that he was once a lawyer before he turned to playing poker. I don’t know if he ever tried ant cases in court, but I can’t imagine his routine or personality ever played well in front of a magistrate.

As for that “Palm Sunday” nickname in the title, that was coined by a British poker pro and wag several years back, after the episode in which Kassouf palmed a 100-pound chip from a friend’s stack at a London casino’s roulette table. It’s Kassouf’s favorite holiday, the player quipped, and I found that to be both apt and hilarious. It might have been one of Barny Boatman’s lines, but I can’t find it, these days. It was far too rich not to bring up again here.

Carry on. May your days be blessedly Kassouf-free.