He Had Jack-10, by Mick Shaffer

They say that the game of poker is hours of boredom interrupted my moments of terror.  Well, this is my terror.

Granted, it’s a $20 tournament in my friend’s basement on a Monday night, but I’ve had more beers than pots won tonight so I need this.  Plus, I have no idea what to do.  If I call and lose, I’ll have to go home.  I don’t wanna go home; I don’t wanna have to withdraw cash from the ATM to convince the wife that I won even though I’m really 80 bucks in the hole at this point.

Thus, for a 30-something living in beige suburbia, this moment equals … Terror.

By the way, I’ve got Ace-King off-suit.

Oh, I guess you may not understand the poker lingo.  But surely you’ve heard this form of communication spoken around the office.

“Dude, I caught wired jacks and raised it three times the big blind.”

“Get in any action?”

“Yeah, the short stack came over the top for 200.”

“Were you in good position?”

“On the button.”

“What was the flop?”

“King, Jack, Eight.”

“So you caught a set.”

“Yeah, but I slow-played it.”

“Did he come out strong?”

“Yep, so I went all-in.”

“He called.”

“I ended up crackin’ his aces.”

“Sweet.”

“Totally.”

“He tilted the rest of the night.”

It comes very close to the Papaun dialect spoken in New Guinea.

And the guy who tells these stories at work is only slightly less annoying than the asshole who practices his golf swing all the time.

I’m probably guilty on both accounts but you don’t have to know this.

What you do need to know is having an Ace and a King in this version of poker – Texas Hold ‘Em – isn’t always that special.  Sure, they are the two highest cards, but high cards rarely win you a hand.  In fact, they refer to Ace King as Anna Kournikova, because it looks good but never wins.

Ha ha.  Poker humor.  Ah…

This poker is an ancient game to be sure, so how is it a new phenomenon?  It’s like everybody getting excited about poetry again or something.

Of course, poker is enjoying this renaissance because of one move.  The one thing I could use desperately right now.  Ironically, the one thing you are never supposed to do in poker is now the reason for the game’s commercial success.

Showing your cards.

Goddamn technology. Everybody has cameras showing their cards these days.  They’re called “hole cams.”  And unlike the humans playing the game, hole cams never lie.  They also provide a great deal of insight.

Yeah, without seeing the cards, poker is about as fun to watch as a subtitled version of The English Patient.  Seeing the cards turns it into a Rock of Love type guilty pleasure.

It’s the difference between standing outside the Playboy mansion and taking an inside tour of it.

You get to see the goods.  You know when a player is bluffing, when he’s telling the truth, or when he’s acting like he has nothing even though he really has something but turns out his something isn’t close to the something the other guy has because the other guy is acting better.  It’s actually great theater.

I’m sure the professional players hate it.  No, they’re not showing their cards to their opponents.  Not immediately, that is.  But when the show airs, they’ll see your cards.  They’ll then match your facial expression, your breathing, your acting, your everything with your hand and will next time have a read on you in a similar situation.  Or, at the very least, this knowledge will create a complex in you.

Similar to something I have right now.  Damn, I could really use a hole camera.  Then I could see what this mouth-breather is holding.  The three cards on the table (the flop) are King, Queen, Nine.  I’ve got top pair.  But he’s re-raised me all-in.

Yes, I would definitely be a better poker player if I could see other people’s cards.

Or would I?  Hell, half the time the odds are 55%/45% or 60%/40% at worst.  And after decades of trying to start an affair with luck, I still have never won a coin flip.  There are two diamonds on the table and his all-in raise is abnormally large so maybe he’s desperate and maybe I should put him on a flush draw.

In that case, I would be winning.  But there would be as many as nine cards left in the deck that could leapfrog him ahead of me.

Stupid poker!

“How much do you have?” I ask him.

I’m stalling at this point.  I’m fully aware he’s got a lot more than me as evidenced by his four big stacks of blue chips compared to my two small stacks of white ones.

But this is a tactic I’ve seen Phil Ivey do on TV so I’m doing it now.  What’s sadder than poker being popular is poker’s participants being popular.  But they are.  Phil Ivey is now as popular as Tiger Woods.  In fact, he’s called the “Tiger Woods” of poker.  Yes, there are actual stars in poker!  With nicknames.  “Kid Poker.”  “Texas Dolly.”  “The Professor.”  “Fossilman.”

Pretty soon, “Dad, can I have some Tracy McGrady shoes?” is gonna turn into, “Dad, can I have some Daniel Negreanu sunglasses?”

Going further, stars even treat these guys like … stars.  Jennifer Tilly doesn’t act anymore (if she ever did), she just plays cards.  Even dates a professional card player.  James Woods, Shannon Elizabeth, and Ben Affleck all play in the World Series of Poker every year in Las Vegas.

Spiderman’s Tobey Maguire walks into a no-limit circuit event and gushes, “Wow, you’re Doyle Brunson!”  Not the other way around.

Alex Rodriguez hangs out with poker brat Phil Helmuth.  No, not in the bowels of historic Yankee stadium, but in the bowels of the New York underground poker scene.

Everybody’s playing poker.  Home games.  At the boats.  Online.  I think the local YMCA might be starting a U-10 league.  After all, all you need is a chip, a chair and a sucker.

Enter: me.  The guy who’s read books, who’s studied strategy, who’s opened online accounts, who’s lost a lot more money than he’s won.  The one who’s engaged in an inner dialogue over one measly hand.  The one who can’t let go of top pair.  The one who folds when he’s ahead.  One of the millions hooked on the beauty of poker.

That beauty is that anyone can win.  Look, Steve Nash is going to beat you in a game of one-on-one.  You will not be able to hit a Stephen Strasburg fastball.  John Daly will beat you in golf … unless he’s sober.

But in poker it’s different.  Sometimes you can outplay even the best.  Other times your cards do the talking.  Sometimes you get lucky.

I’ve found that having no clue what you’re doing is the best method.  In the same way that Communism and Fascism are opposites yet closely related.  Being a bad player often makes you look like a good one.

Mostly and currently I’m a bad one.  Right now I’m trying to put the puzzle together.  But the truth is, I’m just guessing.

I’m trying to read his face.  Is he holding his breath?  Is he staring at me, or the cards, or his chips?  Wait, was that a lip quiver?!

It’s useless.  All I know for sure is that his name is Scott and just about every Scott I’ve known gets drunk and does stupid shit, so I don’t believe him.  This is why it’s called gambling, I guess.

“I call.”

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