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he Guardian Poker Column |
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Victoria
Coren |
Friday June 2, 2006
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How to play poker (How to play has been running from issue 16) |
Poker is cruel. It's deceptive, aggressive, antisocial and
expensive. Don't get me wrong; I love the game and many of its players. But
(even in these days of social poker revolution and home games on Desperate
Housewives) money is lost, pride is damaged, trickery prevails and
individuality is all. Poker doesn't even have the partnership spirit of bridge,
let alone the team spirit of football.
Recently I've been re-reading
Jesse May's 1998 novel, Shut Up and
Deal. One of my favourite things about May's wonderful book is its honesty
about poker's brutal nature. He writes: "People always want to know what's
going on, and what's going on is people are going broke." He writes: "There are
no guys and there is no peer group, just a bunch of desperate lonely souls
trying to make a few bucks for themselves by fucking over others." And don't
get Jesse wrong; he loves poker too. |
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Home games can be even worse. There may be
banter, laughs and pizza, but somebody will always get screwed over; and
friendship can be compromised by the embarrassment of financial defeat. To
paraphrase Woody Allen on sex: is poker horrible? It is if you're doing it
right.
Tournament poker, which this column has discussed for the past
few weeks, can sometimes seem like a healthier social option. Sure, it hurts to
get knocked out - but you're only losing the fixed fee you paid in advance. In
cash games, people can find themselves sliding helplessly down the greasy
tunnel of uncontrolled loss. I saw this happen a few weeks ago to a charming
old Chinese fellow who kept losing his sit-down money and buying more chips
because he didn't want to go home.
I saw a flop with K8 and it
came down 388. I bet; the Chinese guy raised; I re-raised; he went all in for
his last £400. Could he have A8? Could he have 33? While I was thinking
about it, he looked at me sorrowfully and said: "I'm losing
thousands."
I had to call. He showed 87 and, failing to improve on later
streets, found his pockets empty and was forced to go home. I truly
wished that I had folded. I was winning in the game. I didn't need his money.
And I didn't need his plaintive, disappointed face fixed in my self-loathing
mind. But compassion and pity are weaknesses in poker. And they are
disrespectful weaknesses, too. Every adult has the right to put his money at
risk and lose it.
But still. It is a cruel game. |
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