Why Do I Play Poker?

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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December 29, 2009

It’s 5AM…

Filed under: Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 3:45 pm

It’s 5:00 a.m..

I’m outta here.  It’s late.  Good thing I don’t have to waste any time at the cage.

I get up and walk past the valet that I was too smart pay $3 to and head to self-parking.

I get in my car and let the fact that I just gave $500 to a bunch of rank ama­teurs sink in.

It’s one of those nights when I can’t help but ask “Why the fuck do I play poker?”

Tonight, it’s cer­tainly not for the thrill of vic­tory.  Out­smart­ing my oppo­nents? Came up a lit­tle short there too.  Comm­raderie? The guy who just got out of prison was pretty cool.

Tonight was too bru­tal to rely on cute lit­tle say­ings like “the next best thing next to win­ning at poker is los­ing at poker.“ It’s going to be a while before that pearl of wis­dom is going to be amus­ing again.

Right now the only ray of light on this sit­u­a­tion is that McDon­alds starts serv­ing break­fast in twenty minutes.

The sausage McMuf­fin is not going to take the sting off tonight.  Okay, fine. It’s three Sausage McMuffins but that’s not the point.  There’s not enough Sausage McMuffins to make me feel better.

What hap­pened? The night started off just right. I get to the casino. My table is per­fect. Loose, jokey and most impor­tantly, emi­nently beat­able. The free prime rib is still in the vicin­ity of vaguely rare.  Tonight’s going to be all right.

It’s easy to wait for a pre­mium hand while you’re  eat­ing prime rib table side. So that’s exactly what I do.  For the first cou­ple of rounds I play my blinds and not much else. First hand.  Aces cracked.  Per­fect I think.  Next time you’ll give me the money. I’ll wait.

I won’t kill you with the details, but basi­cally I lose three buy-ins play­ing solid poker.  I get my money in with the best hand only to watch the other guy rake in the chips.  Oh well, that’s poker.

Now back to the mind numb­ing defeat. Here’s why I’m mad.  I know you lose some­times.  That’s part of the game.  I usu­ally can accept that.  But not last night.  Last night, after fairly los­ing the first three buy-ins, I just gave away another two.  It would’ve been bet­ter if I just gave the dealer a two hun­dred dol­lar tip and got to sleep an hour earlier.

But then McDon­alds would not have been serv­ing break­fast yet and I would’ve have deprived my arter­ies three Sausage McMuffins worth of grief.

Fine, I’ll just sleep it off.  Okay, maybe I won’t.  My son wants to watch car­toons.  Great. Jus­tice League?  Okay, he can watch Super­man while I can plan the assas­si­na­tion of the fuck­tard in seat five who plays QJ under the gun after get­ting three-bet .   It doesn’t take long before my mind goes from how much I hate poker to won­der­ing if I can squeeze in a SNG if we watch another episode.

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

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