c-bets&bracelets

I am either a competitive soul or a degenerate gambler. I tip toe the fine line often, hopping gracefully from side to side, never invading both realms at once. I live to compete, whether it be against a single opponent or against millions of others. I can channel focus and establish a cool façade in the most intense and unnerving situations. I was born to be a poker player. I never had much of a choice.

Actually, I did have a choice. I had not fully understood the game of Texas Hold’em until I watched the 2003 World Series of Poker. Most of the appeal around the event was that a little know player had won his entry through a cheap satellite ticket and went on to take the first prize. I didn’t care much about the newbie making it big as I did the intensity of the game. I was captivated by the simplistic look of poker. The cards came out and players placed wagers on who had the better hand. I was also keenly aware, even at a young age, that this simplistic view was a thin veil atop of a mistress of strategy, math, and insight. It was this mixture of styles that drew me to the game. Well, that and the prospect of winning tons of money.

Sure, winning money is one of the primary reasons I play the game of poker. It’s nice to outwit or outdraw someone and get rewarded for it. Who doesn’t like the thrill of money on the line, a big stack of black chips heaped in the middle of the green felt? The dealer holds the river card in the air a half second longer then normal, all of the air is sucked out of the room by the suspense. The plastic coated card slaps the table with a slight “whip” of air and everyone stops for a moment as their eyes focus in on the last card. Someone jumps up from their seat; another puts his face in his hands. The rest of the table hoots and hollers, cheers and sighs, almost as emotionally invested in the pot as the bettors themselves.

The chips are shoved over to the winner and some words may be exchanged, but there was more to that scenario than just money. Pride was won and lost; competition took over and made those clay discs in the center of the table mere toys. For a moment suspended in time, the players thought not of the monetary reward, but the reward of victory in its own right.

Our newfound victor might play his next hand a bit more loosely; he is on a hot streak after all. Our loser is out for vengeance, more focused than ever. The game is no longer solely about money; there are emotions influencing the game. Blood is in the air, the game is now alive.

This is why I play poker.

The uncertainty of the future intrigues human beings. It is this fact that makes the game of poker exhilarating. I use this rush to fuel my flame, I use it to burn others to the ground. I play poker because I long for the defeated look of my opponents. The feeling of victory is raw emotion. The feeling of loss, although gut-wrenching at times, can evoke feelings of equal strength.

I don’t care as much for most people as I do for these suits and numbers, faces and hands. If this makes me a degenerate gambler, then so be it. I don’t care whether or not my opponent thinks I’m a young “degen” or a shark in the water, just so long as his chips are in my pocket at the end of the night.