Why Do I Play Poker?

January 25, 2010

Like Dexter, I also have a “Dark Passenger.”

Filed under: Commerce Casino, Hollywood Park, Poker, Texas Hold'em, The Bike, WSOP, Winning Streak — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:00 am

“I’m all in!”

“I call!”

He shows me his straight. I muck my 2 pair in disgust. It’s not that I got outplayed. That doesn’t piss me off too much. What DOES piss me off is when I make a solid game plan on the way to the casino, but when I get there, my dark passenger takes over and the game plan goes out the door. It’s like I am two people. On the one hand, I am a responsible father and husband. Patient, creative and frugal. On the other hand, I am an aggressive poker player – impatient, impulsive and sometimes reckless.

Okay, maybe my comparison to Dexter is an exaggeration. After all, its been years since I hacked up some evil dude and threw his body parts in the ocean.

I have the same conversation every time I go to the casino. “Today I am going to play tight. No fishing. Only play position. Fold draws when I don’t have the odds. Go home when I lose my edge. Don’t go on tilt when I get a bad beat. And most importantly, FOLD WHEN I KNOW I AM BEAT!” I look in the mirror. Remind myself that I am in control.

Then I get to the casino, fast walk to the felt and plop down my chips and eagerly await my first Christmas present. 2 minutes later, all my chips are in the middle. 3 way action and I am on the nut flush draw on the flop. I almost have odds and convince myself this is a good spot to get it all in. 30 seconds later…..I am on tilt, calling for chips and ready to gamble. Just like that, enter my dark passenger. It doesn’t take long until, I have lost my second buy-in. At this point, I look at my phone and realize I have been here for only 75 minutes. Luckily the wallpaper on my iPhone is a picture of my son. Instantly I snap back. My horns retract, my fangs retreat, my tail disappears and I am myself again. I breath deeply and remind myself that I am not defined by my last hand of poker.

I am always surprised when my dark side comes out, but I have come to be grateful for him as well. I use him as a measure for my personal growth. The day I can take a beating and shake it off will be the day I have made it to the next level of consciousness. It may sound a bit metaphysical, but that’s one of the reasons I play poker.

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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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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