I still play poker sometimes
Mostly with a gaggle of mostly old folks. I like them a lot on aggregate, and individually I like (or dislike) some more than others. One of my favorites is the host, who shall be called J.
The game is a $30 freezeout NLHE tournament on Fridays, and usually there are 9 to 15 people in attendance. I'd estimate that I'm the second best player in the overall group (the best is a monster hand-reader who shall be called A--he's also one of my favorites), and I've made a decent overall profit over the course of the last couple years, since I started in 2011. But I don't really go for the money; I go for the game.
Ever since I retired from semi-pro poker I've really come to realize the value in playing with friends. Online play was impersonal, and playing live with strangers for competition feels two-dimensional. Playing with friends is fun, much as one would expect it should be. It doesn't really keep me fresh or make my game better, but it's a really good release. No matter how marginal my talent is, poker is a part of who I am now, and expressing that talent is a glorious thing.
It really makes me miss the old days in Katy, playing $3 games with John, Eric, Travis, and assorted characters. We spent countless hours together during that last year and last summer of high school, and I remember our first game, making $.05 bets on the flop with blinds at $.05/$.10, thinking that KA234 was a 4-high straight. Those games, those few pathetic dollars, meant so much. And we all got so much better, but damn did we still suck. Gloriously suck.
I didn't play at all when I got to GW, but when I transferred over to UT I lived with John, Tae, and Bradley, and we played with each other and with others. We went to Vegas when the three of them graduated and I lost several hundred bucks, but I'd already started to kill it online, and my nascent and abortive career was born.
Those are some good memories, and I would give a lot to relive them, or to re-enact them (with more success, of course). It was a beautiful mix of friendly play and fierce competition. There was an essence to my game that kept me afloat despite inexperience and questionable decision-making. It's not ingrained anymore, but sometimes I'm able to grasp at it for a stretch, channel a power that would make me dominant against mere mortals.
I am very much mortal myself, though. Better than most of my peers, but relegated to the lower amateur leagues by life and skill. I've played at local card rooms a couple of times in an attempt to win money (I did come within inches of a big payday last time, but left on the bubble), and I play with a group of mostly old folks on Fridays for fun. I'm making some good memories there, but they pale in comparison to 2003, 2004, 2007, and 2008.
I can't say I'm happy with my poker standing today, but I'm tremendously grateful for the opportunity to lay it on the line with people I'm comfortable with, a coterie that includes worthy opponents even if it does include a couple of assholes, sore losers, and fools. I think I want to talk about them more, lionize them the same way I've lionized my old friends, even if it's not at all the same thing. It's important for someone like me to have poker buddies to attach to. Someday I might not play with the same group for whatever reason (most likely because I probably won't live around here forever), and maybe I'll land with a better group, or even find old friends if fortune would be so immeasurably kind. But right now, I can say that I'm happy to have these mostly old folks.
The game is a $30 freezeout NLHE tournament on Fridays, and usually there are 9 to 15 people in attendance. I'd estimate that I'm the second best player in the overall group (the best is a monster hand-reader who shall be called A--he's also one of my favorites), and I've made a decent overall profit over the course of the last couple years, since I started in 2011. But I don't really go for the money; I go for the game.
Ever since I retired from semi-pro poker I've really come to realize the value in playing with friends. Online play was impersonal, and playing live with strangers for competition feels two-dimensional. Playing with friends is fun, much as one would expect it should be. It doesn't really keep me fresh or make my game better, but it's a really good release. No matter how marginal my talent is, poker is a part of who I am now, and expressing that talent is a glorious thing.
It really makes me miss the old days in Katy, playing $3 games with John, Eric, Travis, and assorted characters. We spent countless hours together during that last year and last summer of high school, and I remember our first game, making $.05 bets on the flop with blinds at $.05/$.10, thinking that KA234 was a 4-high straight. Those games, those few pathetic dollars, meant so much. And we all got so much better, but damn did we still suck. Gloriously suck.
I didn't play at all when I got to GW, but when I transferred over to UT I lived with John, Tae, and Bradley, and we played with each other and with others. We went to Vegas when the three of them graduated and I lost several hundred bucks, but I'd already started to kill it online, and my nascent and abortive career was born.
Those are some good memories, and I would give a lot to relive them, or to re-enact them (with more success, of course). It was a beautiful mix of friendly play and fierce competition. There was an essence to my game that kept me afloat despite inexperience and questionable decision-making. It's not ingrained anymore, but sometimes I'm able to grasp at it for a stretch, channel a power that would make me dominant against mere mortals.
I am very much mortal myself, though. Better than most of my peers, but relegated to the lower amateur leagues by life and skill. I've played at local card rooms a couple of times in an attempt to win money (I did come within inches of a big payday last time, but left on the bubble), and I play with a group of mostly old folks on Fridays for fun. I'm making some good memories there, but they pale in comparison to 2003, 2004, 2007, and 2008.
I can't say I'm happy with my poker standing today, but I'm tremendously grateful for the opportunity to lay it on the line with people I'm comfortable with, a coterie that includes worthy opponents even if it does include a couple of assholes, sore losers, and fools. I think I want to talk about them more, lionize them the same way I've lionized my old friends, even if it's not at all the same thing. It's important for someone like me to have poker buddies to attach to. Someday I might not play with the same group for whatever reason (most likely because I probably won't live around here forever), and maybe I'll land with a better group, or even find old friends if fortune would be so immeasurably kind. But right now, I can say that I'm happy to have these mostly old folks.
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