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June 03, 2006

The solace of poker ...

Something that may get lost in all our blogging about Ms and orbits and suck outs and bad beats (and I'll get to complaining about those in a moment) is that poker, when played with the right people, can be a reassuring, comforting pastime. When played with even one or two sociable and good-natured people, even a $1 turbo SNG can become a place where jokes and banter make friends, even if only for 30-45 minutes. The suck outs suck less, the bad beats don't seem so bad.

Today, I have lost to two rivered A-10 straights which cracked top pair or two pair. I went all-in before the flop with an M of just under 3 while holding pocket 8s and flopped 10 8 10 ... but lost to a rivered king because my caller was holding K-10c. I went all-in before the flop with A-K off-suit and was called by pocket kings. I flopped my ace, but lost to a rivered diamond four flush (for the record, the odds of catching runner-runner diamonds to make a flush - even holding two diamonds, much less one - are something ridiculously small that I don't remember off the top of my head. It is the least probable flush). That's how my day has been.

However, every time it's happened, the people who sucked out were gracious about it, admitted it was a suck out and wished me good luck and congratulated me on well-played hands. And likewise, every time I suck out, I make a point of apologizing to people and letting them know they made the right play and that luck was the only reason I won.

Frankly, that's incredibly meaningful. Yes, poker is a game of misdirection and deceit, but why can't we be civil about it? Why can't we all simply be NICE to each other? Rudeness doesn't put me on tilt, it just makes me ignore someone and makes everyone's time at the table less enjoyable.

Be gracious, even in defeat. It's more sporting.

Here are two opposite ends of the spectrum.

Last night, I was watching John Juanda playing against Mike Matusow on Full Tilt Poker. The rail was just brutal - constant insults, catcalls, profanity - even racist epithets directed toward both players. Later, while watching John D'Agostino play at another table, it was no different. It was, without question, the absolute ugliest observer chat I have ever seen in my life. We're talking about comments that - even in polite society - would get your ass kicked and deservedly so.

And yet last night and this morning, I had entirely different experiences with John Juanda. While the abuse hurled at the pros would seem to make them likely to turn off observer chat, he was joking back and forth with someone who just graduated law school and myself about criminal justice and whether habitual bluffers should be prosecuted.

And yesterday, after asking him very politely if he'd be willing to play a few hands at lower stakes because I couldn't afford $50/$100 NLHE (particularly not facing his bankroll), he sat down at a $.50/$1 fixed limit table and stunned everyone there just by playing a few hands. I know this much - everyone who was sitting at that table will always remember that moment. Hell, I took screen captures - the online poker equivalent of carrying a digital camera to capture a moment with a player you admire. After my years of journalism, I don't get star-struck because I used to sit next to folks like Mel Gibson and Ron Howard and ask them questions. Yesterday, I was a raving fanboy.

See, it's been a very hard few weeks for my fiancee and I - I've been on disability for over seven weeks due to massive back problems and have been unable to do anything - I can't go to the grocery store, I can't pick things up, I can't even really walk. I need more help than I ever have before in my life, just to get through daily life and simple things like putting dishes in the dishwasher and taking them out. Tuesday, my neurosurgeon pointed at an MRI of my neck and brain and identified symptoms of multiple sclerosis and didn't name any other condition that could be causing all this - I'm waiting to see a neurologist for a second opinion, but right now, it feels like being all-in with 7c-2d against A-Kh with a board of Qh Jh 9d 8c and hoping to make a pair on the river or go home early. I can't spend more than about an hour or so sitting up on any given day because of the pain. I have only left my apartment a handful of times in the past two months and most of those times have been for MRIs or doctors' appointments.

But last night, when John Juanda was in the big blind and I caught K-10s ahead of him, I forgot all that for a moment. And when I paired my king at the flop, the only thing I could think about was that I can't even consider myself an amateur, I was head-to-head against one of the best poker players in the world and I had just made my hand. When it finally came to showdown and he turned over J-8c with a board of Kc 5c 6h 9s Jd, I realized a few things:

1. He had 12 reasons to go to the river. He had a 36% chance of making his flush and caught 3 more outs at the turn for a 24% chance of making his flush or catching a straight at the river. In short, he had a grip of ways to beat me. I had to dodge more bullets than Neo in "The Matrix" to win. I just got lucky and my hand held up.
2. I had just played a heads-up hand with one of the world's best and most gracious poker players and won.

The pot size was ridiculously small (I was embarrassed even asking him to play at the stakes I could afford, but I learned long ago that you never get what you don't ask for, but - IF you ask - something magical might just happen) but the pot wasn't the point. John Juanda graciously gave a few minutes of his time and it made my week ... and I imagine more than a few people, myself included, told their spouses, co-workers, poker buddies ... even people that don't even know a thing about poker ... that they shared a table with him for a moment and that it made their week as well. For him, those few moments were likely nothing. If I ever meet him face to face, I doubt he'd even remember although he'd probably say something polite like "Yeah, that was a lot of fun. I just had to focus on the higher-limit games I was in, otherwise I would have stayed longer," but to me and the people at that table, I suspect it meant everything. There's a George Bailey moment for you.

Thank you, John.

And that's what I mean by the solace of poker.

Several years ago, I think it was 1999, I drove from San Diego to Denver to visit a dear friend for New Year's. I had broken up with my fiancee of a few years only a few months before under very bad circumstances which - not to put too detailed a point on it - involved her infidelity. I was trying to grieve, trying to heal and trying to get past it all. I had routed my return trip so that I could go through Vegas and play some poker at Circus Circus (it's pretty much my favorite casino besides the ones on Fremont with .25 craps, etc.) - nothing fancy, just five-card draw with a $5 maximum bet. It took a while to get a table going because it was the start of a week and not many people were around, but when that table started, it was great. The dealer was funny and talkative and made up her own nicknames for people (any time it came around to me, she said, "Bet's to you, San Diego"). It was just guys at the table and we talked about baseball and sports and women and our best and worst hands of poker ... the stuff that men who have never met before and are unlikely to meet again talk about when they are in the company of men at a poker table. I was the youngest there by at least 20 years, but I was playing well and taking down pots. Finally, one of the guys I had been talking to most apologized and said he had to leave, but on his way out, he stopped, put his hand on my shoulder and whispered some advice to me:

1. Slow down.
2. Don't tip so much.

Then he grinned and walked away. It may not sound like much, but at that time, after that conversation, it was a moment of genuine human connection and those are too few and far between and too often go unappreciated when they happen.

I think sometimes we all forget how nice it can be to sit down and have a friendly game and tease each other and talk about whatever comes to mind, to take our minds off of whatever else may be troubling us in our lives ... and how healing that can really be. And maybe that means that we're missing the best thing poker really has to offer.

Posted by puckett at June 3, 2006 05:56 AM

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