I get back in the swing of things by playing with the tournament crowd at the Wynn. It’s a good time. There’s plenty of action and characters and non-playing spouses and dates watching us. The competitors come up with some, well, let’s call them interesting lines. Somehow pocket pairs below top pair have special, almost kinetic qualities for some of these dudes.
However, these small games aren’t getting me back on track, especially when so little goes my way that I am mostly a spectator myself. No matter what Tommy Gangelo says, a downswing isn’t mentally ended by rubbing your eyes and smiling. This one seems to be a slow recovery, as in elongated and painful, if I recover at all. The dire, countdown-like aspect of these pieces has contradictorily mesmerized me into forgetting how badly I need to win.
Somewhere along the way I’d fallen asleep at the wheel and into a confusing dream. “Victory has defeated you,” he joked, partying with his masked buddy and the henchfellows.
Still, I’m here and others aren’t. Maybe I still know how it’s done. After all, I’ve seen so many come and go. Do you remember Michael Lukich? He took a serious shot at poker and even designed a solver course. Now’s he moved on and written a book on leadership and stoicism. Remember the Finding Equilibrium guy? All the rage for a season. There was some talk behind the scenes about some coaching we might have done together. Now, however, his passion for the game has passed. Now he’s selling fitness stuff.
Everyone who’s lasted in this game probably knows more people who have got out than in. In fact, that’s probably natural. It takes ability to win in poker but also a certain kind of obstinate personality to weather the ups and downs, under and over. I’ve always had this essentially stupid quality. Better minds see what’s on the wall and go read elsewhere.
I can stay in poker because what seems the same is always new to me. I’m always wrestling with the people and the strategy and there are no monolithic answers. Of course, there’s a lot of high falutin talk when they want to defend poker as a challenge, but the reality is this kind of thing. That’s because poker is gambling in the short-term. To defend poker, gambling should be embraced, not lied about. So I gamble it out, hoping my edge will carry me through the high risk. I know it’s gambling because part of me is always afraid and must be overcome.
Yet the open secret, of course, is that everything is gambling. The rest of society merely gambles on things other than cards and at different standard deviations. When I was younger, I dropped out of school to pursue a terrible relationship and make a sacrifice religion and personal failure demanded of me. I thought I could do anything, accomplish anything, while also placing my needs below everyone’s. This was a kind of abject grandiosity. I had gambled on my childish nihilism and lost. It cost me my best life but even in losing we still have a second life, a kind of consolation bracket where we are humbled and minor. The game never ends, even if you want it to.
Should I not try to play a tournament again? Or is hanging with the peeps and grabbing a few dollars enough? Where is all this going? Is victory down a different hall? Halfway through the series, it’s time to wake up and get my shit together.
-1590
