Why Do I Play Poker?

January 17, 2010

Latin Ballroom or Pass the Trash

Filed under: Home Game, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:00 am

I’ve been mar­ried for 10 years, have 2 kids and almost no time to myself. If you count my inter­net porn babes as com­pany, then I do in fact have no time to myself. When I get a call to join a neighbor’s home game on a ran­dom Wednes­day night, I think to myself, “What would I rather do? Watch the finale of So You Think You Can Dance with my wife, or hang out with the guys smok­ing pot, telling lies and act­ing like a 15 year old.” Hmmmmmmmmm

I arrive at the game a bit giddy. This night is going to be fun. Buy in is $80 and it’s dealer’s choice. Every­one hates NLH at home games. It’s too slow, too restrictive…requires too much tal­ent! I know this going in. We are going to play games that are just a hair above roulette in skill level. Shit, I was going to be watch­ing Tiffany and Raj do the Latin Ball­room, even if I lose $80 at stu­pid games of chance, I’m a win­ner. I’ll gladly play 3 hours of “Pass The Trash” if I can escape the suf­fer­ing of a round of com­ments from the faggy danc­ing judges about how much Raj extended his arms dur­ing the pirou­ettes. Not that I have a prob­lem with gay or danc­ing. But really? Is this even a contest?

Tonight I am catch­ing bad cards. Cou­ple that with miss­ing some of the “sub­tleties” of Pass the Trash and I am thru my first buy in. It’s only 8:30. Raj is still doing pirou­ettes. RE-BUY!

At 9:07, my sec­ond buy-in is gone. Raj or chips? Raj or chips? Raj or chips? It’s a tough one, but at this point I need to acknowl­edge the grace and beauty of Raj’s danc­ing. He actu­ally does have a place in my life. When all the money is gone and there is absolutely noth­ing left to do, Raj is the answer.

I come home. My wife remarks that I am home early. Bad night. I take my place on the couch and man­age to show some enthu­si­asm when I ask, “Hey did I miss Raj and Tiffany?” “Nope“‘ she says, “just in time.” I force a smile and say, “Great! Can’t wait to see them really nail this Latin Ball­room.”

Some­times I play poker to post­pone the inevitable.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 15, 2010

Yes, it was very hot today.

Filed under: Ready To Post — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:53 pm

We’ve all been there.  You sit down at the poker table next to a guy
who has a com­ment about every­thing.  Some­one makes a rou­tine fold.
“Some­times you can’t fight ‘em.” he says.  No.  Some­times you can’t
fight ‘em.  He’s right.  He’s also going to ruin my night with this
bull­shit.   Usu­ally I try and be nice and humor him on the first few
com­ments.  I don’t want to be a total dick.

“It’s good to get out” he says.  Christ dude.  You might as well just
say “I’m lonely”  or “I haven’t slept with a woman for years.”  That
would be inter­est­ing.  At least then I could find out why the med­i­cine
for the pso­rias isn’t work­ing.   Oh yeah, this guy is leav­ing
dis­gust­ing skin flakes on the felt every time he reaches for his
chips.  Which he never does because he is strat­egy is to bore every­one
into giv­ing him their chips.  With every skin fleck I”m reminded I
should’ve stayed home and played online.

“What’s good on the menu?” he mut­ters.  Before I can say “I think the
pad-thai is okay” the iPod head­phones are on.

Loud.

Even thought this guy is harm­less, prob­a­bly even nice, he’s start­ing
to affect my game.  I’m spend­ing too much energy on tun­ing him out and
not enough on tun­ing into what the other play­ers are up to.  He’s
worse for my psy­che than a maniac on my left.  There’s only one thing
to do.

“Table change please”

As I get up, the guy clue­lessly jokes, “Was it some­thing I said?”

“No” I lied.

I’m sure the poor guy found some other unwill­ing sap to

talk to about the weather.

I usally play poker for inter­est­ing conversation.

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It’s a little uncomfortable, but I definitely like it.

Filed under: Bad Beats, Home Game, Poker, Winning Streak — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 10:10 am

Yes.  It’s a golden horse­hoe up my ass joke.  It was that good of a night. It was the night of nights.  The kind of night that can make you for­get bad beats hap­pen to you. Ever.

This was the type of night that can make a poker junkie for life. I could chase this dragon for years and never even come close to the dumb luck I was experiencing.

4–6 under the gun? I think I can stand a raise. After all, I do have a golden horse­shoe up my ass.   Sure the ini­tial raiser made a set of 8’s on the flop.  I know. I get it. But can’t you see the horse­shoe peek­ing from the waist­band of my cargo shorts?  I’m going to make a straight.  I call your all in bet with a gut shot.  Tonight, It’s not about the cards.  It’s not about posi­tion.  It’s not about good reads. It’s all about my lucky golden horseshoe.

What am I going to do?  Fight it?  Fold my Q6 because it’s weak.  No way.  I’m rid­ing this out.  I’ve cer­tainly been on the receiv­ing end no it’s my turn to enjoy.

It doesn’t take long for my oppo­nents to become aware of the horse­shoe.   They soon become a bunch of check­ing, fold­ing bro­ken men. They can’t bet into me.  Their only solace is they rec­og­nize they’re too weak to fight the horse­shoe, but can live to fight another day.

Tomor­row I can go back to smart poker.  Tonight I’ll just sit back and be happy to be lucky.  I even offer a half-hearted apol­ogy once in a while to the end­less bar­rage of bad beats I’m deliv­er­ing. I like to think I have enough man­ners to pre­tend to be a nice guy.  Although, I may come off as slightly insin­cere when I’m weep­ing with laugh­ter as I choke through some­thing lame like “Tough one, buddy!”

Need­less to say, it was a pretty good night.

I play poker for the nights I am unstoppable.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 14, 2010

Replay Hand — Curse and Blessing

Filed under: Bad Beats, Online Poker, Poker, Uncle Doug — Tags: , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 12:47 pm

“Man, you should play online. If you don’t play like a dick, you can win some cash. I turned $50 into $1500.” This is my uncle talk­ing. He’s a retired hippy from the 60s. Now he’s a tat­tooed poker player who tells every­one at the casino that his nephew, that’s me, likes to pack fudge. If I hear him say this, my retort is that I only do it with him when he begs for it. But I digress. I took his advice about online poker and haven’t looked back since.

He was kinda right. I turned $50 into $600 in losses. Then I made some changes to my game and now I am a win­ning (only by a bit!) online poker player. Here’s how it went down.

I put $50 into a Full Tilt account and played $1 sit n gos. They were ridicu­lous because no one cared about the money. So I decided to go big, to the tables where my bets would be respected. That’s right, the $5 sit n gos. I have to admit, even at those low stakes my heart would pump like mad. I play for higher stakes in live games, but this just felt different.

It’s so easy to press the all in but­ton. If you win, you can jump up and down and cel­e­brate. If you lose, you can curse the screen and throw your mouse across the room. Bet­ter than that, there is no walk of shame. No awk­ward moments when you avoid eye con­tact with the play­ers after a mis­er­able defeat. No insin­cere, “nice hand”. You can click your­self off that table with those fuck­ers and click right into another game.

Need­less to say the $50 went fast. But I was really get­ting off. Peo­ple say online poker is rigged. Some­times the beats are so unreal, I want to place the blame on some­thing out of my con­trol. Shit, it couldn’t my sucky play! More often than not, I made some fun­da­men­tal error that put me in a bad spot. I know this because I am a big fan of the replay hand but­ton. Watch­ing me be a don­key, over and over again, as I replay hands hurts me ego in a big way, but it sure doesn’t hurt my game.

I play poker because I love learn­ing and study­ing. Other than my fam­ily, noth­ing teaches me more about myself than poker. It forces me to stare in the mir­ror and ask, “Who’s the bitch now?”

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 13, 2010

A Few Ounces Lighter

Filed under: Poker — Tags: , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 3:56 pm

I was feel­ing a few ounces lighter. I cer­tainly wasn’t los­ing weight as a result of my eat­ing dur­ing the hol­i­days. Then I fig­ured it out. I’d lost my balls. It hap­pened dur­ing a No Limit Hold Em ring game when I couldn’t make myself call an all in bet. I was almost pos­i­tive I was in the lead, but I was hav­ing a good night and my stack was healthy. If I called and lost, it would dec­i­mate me. I played it safe, or more like a wuss, and folded only to be shown a hand weaker than mine. My oppo­nent smiled as he raked in a $500 pot.

What hap­pened to me? I used to be as aggres­sive as they came. I used to be THAT guy. I know you have to be aggres­sive. That’s how I play. Or at least I thought I did. Sure, most of my early, highly aggres­sive play was in online SNGs, but cer­tainly, that must translate.

All I really knew was that I needed my balls back.

When you’re look­ing for some­thing, it’s always best to retrace your steps.  Go to the last place you saw it and look there. So that’s what I did. I went online to the Full Tilt Super Turbo SNGs. Cheap ones. $14 +$1.

I chose the Super Tur­bos because they are all about aggres­sion. Win fast or lose fast. All in or noth­ing. I played a bunch.

Promptly turned $100 into $0. Felt good, too. For the first time in a month, I was play­ing with con­fi­dence again. It actu­ally felt bet­ter to lose with con­fi­dence rather than book a few puss-played wins. I wasn’t the timid lit­tle mouse that got bul­lied in the NLH ring game. At least now I had a lit­tle fight in me.

So in the end, it cost me $100 to get my balls back. A bar­gain at twice the price. Way cheaper than the $500 neu­ti­cles I got for my dog.

I guess some­times I play poker to re-learn lessons.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 11, 2010

Am I here to make friends, or money?

Filed under: Home Game, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 7:37 pm

I was eager to accept when I received an invite to my neighbor’s home game. The last few months have been all about chang­ing dia­pers and feed­ing for­mula to my 6 month old at all hours of the night, I need a night out. The buy-in is $60 and I fig­ure a night of male bond­ing and fart jokes is worth at least that. Some­times just get­ting out of the house is a win.

I think to myself, let’s play loose. Be social. Go with the flow. Get to know the guys. Make it more about the hang, than play­ing poker. First hand we play, I can’t help myself. The com­pet­i­tive spirit in me gets uncon­sciously ignited and I play aggres­sive deceit­ful, dare I say “good” poker. Sud­denly I get drunk with the knowl­edge that I am clearly the best poker player at this table. I prey on these poor suck­ers who don’t know my style by mak­ing a stone cold bluff and win. Oops, just took $30 off my neigh­bor. Next hand, I catch a real hand and win, another $20 from him. Fuck, I need to slow down, or at least stop tak­ing money from my neigh­bor. Next few hands I show some dis­ci­pline: fold­ing don­key hands so I don’t suck out on some­one and make them mad.

I man­age to slow down and focus on talk­ing to the guys. Then it all changes. Billy, the stoner to my left who is a dead ringer white ver­sion of Will.i.am, breaks out a per­fectly rolled spleef from the Far­macy (god bless Los Ange­les). I jump at the chance to smoke some weed ( I did hap­pen to notice sev­eral bags of gummi bears on the counter. This is going to be a good night.) I take a few puffs and just like that, stoned.

The next hand is PLO 8 or bet­ter. Now let me just say that I com­pletely suck at this game. I fig­ure this is a good time for a lit­tle give back to secure next week’s invite. Fast for­ward to me hit­ting a straight flush on the river. A steel wheel none the less. The stone cold nuts if there ever were any. There is a pause. One of the guys says to me, Why so quiet? You got the straight flush? I am so stoned and stunned all I can say is, “Yes, yes I do.” Then I bet, get four callers and take it down. Another $40 from my neigh­bor, along with about $100 in the pot. What a time to be get­ting cards. I just want to fit in, hang with the guys, get invited back. Now I am the jack­ass who smokes the free weed, has a horse­shoe up his ass and takes money from the host.

Most of the time, I play poker to win money, get an adren­a­line rush, act a lit­tle bit irre­spon­si­ble, but this time I really just wanted to get out of the house, meet some new guys and maybe even expand my social cir­cle. I had a dif­fer­ent rea­son for play­ing poker tonight, but the cards wouldn’t coop­er­ate. Some­times you have the weapons when you are try­ing to make friends. Other times you get caught naked when you’re among the wolves. Poker is a cruel game that way. An unpre­dictable, ruth­less roller­coaster. And that’s why I love it.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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I just read a new poker book. I’m bracing myself for the inevitable losing streak.

Filed under: Bad Beats, Hollywood Park, Poker, Texas Hold'em, Winning Streak — Tags: , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 5:29 pm

I know that’s it’s not sup­posed to work that way.  I would pre­fer to be able to read a poker book, prefer­able just the back blurb, and go on some end­less win­ning streak.  All of the game’s mys­ter­ies unlocked in one key para­graph. For about an hour’s worth of leisurely read­ing I think its only fair that I become invin­ci­ble. I would like to sit down at the poker table and announce, “I want you to know I’ve skimmed through some of the Har­ring­ton books, please give me the con­tents of your wallets.”

It def­i­nitely doesn’t work that way for me.  Actu­ally, it means the exact oppo­site. Fin­ish­ing a poker book kicks off a three week los­ing streak.

Even with that knowl­edge, I still love a new poker book.  Sure, most of them say pretty much the same stuff, but every once in a while some­one really changes the way you look at the game.  Or at least, one aspect of it. Like three-betting an under the gun raiser.

So what do I do?  I work the price of the los­ing streak into the cost of the book. It’s an edu­ca­tion I believe is worth pay­ing for.  The whole point is to get bet­ter, right?  If I’m going to keep play­ing the same mediocre game I should just get out of my seat and stop play­ing now.  You have to get bet­ter.  And I do.  Slowly.

I play poker to get bet­ter.  To pos­si­bly some­day rule the table regard­less of stakes.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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It’s Christmastime All Year Long

Filed under: Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:35 pm

A cou­ple times a month, I make it to the Bicy­cle, Com­merce or Hol­ly­wood Park casino. Okay, it’s once a week. Some­times twice. But I wish it were more. On those days, there is a lit­tle extra skip in my step.  I smile a bit wider. Of course, the day couldn’t go any slower. When 7:30pm finally arrives, I eagerly hop in the car and head down to the Bike.  I can’t get there fast enough.  But if I didn’t cut off that dude on the 710 I would’ve have missed the light and never got­ten that park­ing space or those glo­ri­ous cow­boys on my first hand. You know, wings on a mos­quito shit?

Finally I get to the tables, sit down and away we go. First hand.  Cow­boys get busted and cost a rack. Sec­ond hand, fold. Third hand,  I fold. I con­tinue to fold for the next 2 hours  Must have spent my karma else­where. Maybe I shouldn’t have cut that guy off.

This is utterly ridicu­lous. I think I should loosen up. But, I did that last week and promised myself I would exer­cise dis­ci­pline tonight. Instead of donk­ing off $200 on unplayable hands out of bore­dom, I fold. After 3 hours, I start won­der­ing who I pissed off. Just last week it seemed like the poker gods were hav­ing an orgy while I was play­ing. Now some­one ain’t get­ting laid up there, but they’re mak­ing damn sure I get roy­ally fucked down here.

Usu­ally I fend off the bore­dom by gorg­ing myself on a huge bowl of ice cream, or ask­ing the pimp next to me how his girls are per­form­ing. But tonight they’re out of ice cream and the pimp just got a call and left abruptly.  It was prob­a­bly Sheila. He did men­tion she was with a new cus­tomer tonight. Hope she’s okay.

Now it’s 1am. I have drib­bled away $78. This night has not turned out as planned. I had no action at the table. The play­ers weren’t par­tic­u­larly inter­est­ing. The food wasn’t sat­is­fy­ing. Why did I play tonight? Why do I ever play this bor­ing game? I sit with this for a moment and then it hits me.

Every time those cards are dealt to me, I feel like a kid on Christ­mas about to open an incred­i­ble present. That feel­ing of antic­i­pa­tion and poten­tial joy is amaz­ing for me. Even though I didn’t get to play a hand tonight, I did open about 200 Christ­mas presents. All of them were essen­tially ugly clothes from grandma, but I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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Win big tonight, Honey!

Filed under: Hollywood Park, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:34 pm

Those words are the kiss of death to me.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard them and actu­ally won.

The part that sucks the most is my wife is so earnest when she says them.  She’s actu­ally root­ing for me.  She wants me to win. Yet, that’s all it takes for me to know I’m fucked before I even start.  I should just take my money and go to a strip club.

“Uh, Honey, you know those those nice, encour­ag­ing words you gave me before I went out?  Well, they fucked up my head. As soon as I heard them, I knew I would lose at poker so I went to Crazy Girls and spent $300 to have this Latina spin­ner dry hump my leg.”

That’s at least log­i­cal.  It doesn’t say much for me as a hus­band, but it makes sense. How­ever, I don’t do that. I go and play. When I walk in the the casino, the valet might as well  yell “Dead man walkin’.”  Now it’s just a mat­ter of putting in the time and money to make this self-fulfilling prophecy come true.

I tell myself I’m not even super­sti­tious.  But obvi­ously I am.  Okay, I admit, I don’t like play­ing poker on Fri­day the 13th either.  What’s that about?  I’m a seri­ous poker player.  I don’t believe in luck.  I roll my eyes when I even hear some­one com­plain about it.  But if I hear the three words “Win big tonight!” I men­tally throw in the towel.   Same thing when I see that dealer who killed me when I had quads.

Okay, so I’m super­sti­tious.  I can accept that.  The thing that makes me crazy is that I don’t adjust my game.  If I have some­one really loose on my right I adjust.  Some­one really tight on my left, I change my attack.  So from now on I’m going to adjust my game when I hear those words “Win big Honey!”.   I’m not playing.

I’m prob­a­bly not going to the strip club either, but I always won­dered what a $300 ice cream sun­dae looks like.

I guess some­times I play poker to know some­times I shouldn’t.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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Fucking Stanley

Filed under: Home Game, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:03 pm

“C’mon Stan­ley, show your hand! You bet, I called, you show.” There’s a big sigh.  A shrug.  Another sigh. A very long pause.  “C’mon is my straight good?” I ask impa­tiently.   Stan­ley gives yet another sigh and turns over the nuts.

He’s slow rolling again.

“Oh, that’s slowrolling?” He asks coyly.  “I’m sorry, Dude.”   Yeah, right. He knows he has my num­ber.  He’s just one of those guys that’s gets under my skin.

Why do I choose to spend my Mon­day nights with this guy?  The rest of the week I’m sur­rounded, mostly, by peo­ple that want my life to be bet­ter.  Not this guy.  He wants me guess­ing whether I’m com­ing or going.  He wants me on the verge of get­ting up and leav­ing the table.  Noth­ing would make him hap­pier than to hear “Fuck you , Stan­ley” and wait for the door to slam.

You know what?

I love it. I even love him.  He’s a liv­ing, breath­ing, slow rolling work­out for my patience and anger man­age­ment.  You know what else? I’m get­ting in bet­ter shape. What used to send me into a mur­der­ous rage now only barely irks me.  I know what’s com­ing and I roll with it.  I wish I could say I have a zen-like amuse­ment about it all,  but I don’t.

So here we are again.  Stan­ley bet. I called. I wait. He’s really Hol­ly­wood­ing. “I’m vul­ner­a­ble” He says.   “Just show it.” I say.  Reluc­tantly, he turns over a full house.  “I have the small one.”  He says with a smirk. “That’s good…”  I say.  Then I wait.  And pro­ceed “…because I have the big one. Oh, is that slowrolling?  My bad, dude.”

I play poker to say “Push those chips a lit­tle closer to me, bitch.”  Okay, so I still hold a lit­tle resentment.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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