How do you know when a fad is on its way out? When said fad is condemned for being a bad influence on our children and destroying the fabric of society. A few years ago I read an article by some concerned columnist who were convinced that our future is doomed because of the popularity of poker. Probably the same person who thought the jitterbug, the Beatles, bell bottoms, disco, Starbucks, Barack Obama and free speech would spell the end of the good old USA. This meant one thing: I’d better learn how to play this game before it’s banned.
Poker had a resurgence of popularity not long ago, even though it has been around for years. I know this because I used to love watching the television series “Maverick” in the early 1960s. This western was based on poker-playing con men in the late 19th century. I’m willing to bet some archaeologist found evidence in an Egyptian tomb of a Pharaoh playing a rousing game of straight poker with his high priests. We know they drank beer back then, so it isn’t much of a stretch to imagine them playing cards while tipping a few.
I have never been much of a gambler. Has nothing to do with my moral convictions…I’m just a coward. Each time I go to Las Vegas or do a turnaround to Stateline, I have every intention to try blackjack, roulette or the slot machines. When I see other people losing large amounts of money playing these games, I melt like Velveeta in a microwave. I usually take my shot at wagering just before the bus is scheduled to go home, knowing I will be gone in 10 minutes so I can’t lose too much.
Because of the popularity of ESPN’s coverage of the World Series of Poker a few years ago, Texas Hold’em became the game of choice. People everywhere were setting up private tournaments for their friends and at charity events. An old buddy of mine called me up awhile back and invited me to participate in a Hold’em tournament at his house. He explained there would be a set buy-in and once my chips were gone, I was out of the game. No temptation to buy more chips and keep on losing. Just like the bus leaving Stateline in 10 minutes, I had a safety net. I accepted his invitation.
My only knowledge of this game is what I had seen on ESPN. Actually, it was a pretty good education. The cable network has been broadcasting the giant World Series of Poker for years and for some reason I got hooked on it. Much easier to watch other people risk their lively hood than for me to do it myself.
As a result of me watching the tournament on TV I learned the terminology. Flop, turn, river and blind made it sound as if I were going hunting or fishing. Next, I learned the rules of the game. Each player gets only two cards and then uses five community cards to complete their hand. This means that the three of clubs in your hand might be the winner. I was ready to compete.
I showed up at my friend’s house with a gift of some kind of beer under my arm, ready to play. The game went on for hours, and the 20 players who had started were reduced to a “final table” of four. I was fortunate enough to be in the final four. Was it my clever reading of other players’ “tells” (better known as facial tics that show how excited or disappointed they are about their hand) or was it my dangerous use of the bluff to force opponents out of the hand. None of the above. What really worked for me was folding. That’s what I did most of the night. I really didn’t get too many good hands. I figured why lose good money on a bad hand? While I was bailing all night, the other players were trying to bluff their way to a win. When I had a good hand, I played it. I profited by some player willing to go “all in” on a bluff. My chip pile just kept on growing until I had everybody else’s chips and was declared the tournament winner.
I would like to claim some great talent at playing the game, but the truth is that I was able to wait out all the others while they lost. I won around $250, which I donated to some disaster relief fund through my church. Did I mention my overwhelming feeling of guilt for risking my hard-earned money in a game of chance?
I don’t think I have the nerve to jump on a Texas Hold Em’ table at a casino. All the players there appear to be cutthroat. I saw a little white haired old lady who looked like she was going to break a beer bottle and go after a guy who checked raised. I think she goes to my church.
Since I won a poker tournament, I’m going to need a clever nickname like the pros. I heard being named after a city intimidates other players. How’s this: The Rancho Cucamonga Kid?
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