Frameworks, Part 3

I recently found this post on my twitter feed.  Those of you who have known me for a while know that I have struggled with these exact same problems of "What value does a poker player contribute to society?" and "why do poker players never collaborate?"  As it stands right now, my current conclusion is a little bit different from Olivier Busquet’s. I don't want to suggest that I found my own personal "final answer” just yet, as I am still grappling with these problems, but I think I have something worthwhile to say all the same.  

OB suggests that you must look outside of poker to find the answers and the value system that he craves. 

"Playing poker is essentially a selfish pursuit.  It's completely individual and poker players play solely for their own personal success".

He is saying that there is an essential quality to poker, an unchanging and unchangeable quality that coerces players into a selfish, money-driven mindset.  And I think I get what he's saying.  Poker is a game, and the object of that game is to make money.  In a theoretical sense, he's exactly right.  Poker is an individual endeavor and a zero-sum game... there is nothing inherent to poker that makes the world a better place.  The entire Commerce Casino does less to add value to the world than the homeless guy at the bus stop, assuming he recycles at least one glass bottle for the 10-cent return fee.  And I suspect these qualities will sooner or later lead me to placing poker in a smaller role than it plays right now.

But I haven't given up on poker just yet.  This piece is about my latest and last shot to find meaning and fulfillment in poker. 

Just like poker has no theoretically "good" qualities, it doesn't have any "bad" qualities either.  It's just a set of rules that Augustus C. Hoyle wrote down a long time ago.  It's only in practice that we decided poker is best played for cash money.  And it's only in practice that some players decided it was wise to use poker as a means to take advantage of people with self-destructive habits.  These traits are not essential to the game as much as they are commonly accepted best practices. 

OB does hastily bring up and dispose the idea that poker might provide a little bit of "entertainment value".  I’ve started to dislike the analogy, and I dislike that this is the way we choose to interpret our poker environment.  I dislike that the analogy makes perfect sense.  Most (non-internet) poker players can relate to the experience of placating poorer players, either reassuring them that they are good players who have just gotten unlucky or accepting their childish, boorish behavior.  I could probably buy a new macbook with all the money I have slipped to floorpeople and dealers over the years, pleading with them to not do anything drastic like getting this dude thrown out just because he lost another hand, ate his cards and told the dealer that everyone in her family is a slanty-eyed cunt.  It's a mostly-unspoken truth in the poker world that the worse a guy is at poker, the more the other players at the table should and will tolerate his bullshit.  This is done because it's the best way to make the most money, and that's the object of the game, right?  When The Professional walks through the doors of the casino, He seeks to become a vessel for moneymaking decisions and actions; He is an emotionless machine, ready for war.  This is the gold standard ideal True Professionals strive for.  

Well, sort of.  As poker started to strive for legitimacy, mainstream acceptance/growth, and long-term health, Professionals realized the Professional mentality could go too far in finding loopholes in the rules and blatantly exploiting naivety of inexperienced and inattentive players.  The Professionals named these dubious maneuvers "angle shots", and the poker community now marginalizes the most egregious of angle shooters.  They aren't excommunicated from the Church of Gambool the way straight-up cheaters are, but their paths to poker glory and riches are rife with new obstacles.  They often ruin the fun and drive off weaker players who don't like egg on their face, and their conniving ways guarantee that Professionals become even more alert and focused on the task at hand when at the same table.  You can probably eke out a living shooting angles, but the odds are stacked against you achieving anything noteworthy in the game.

The point is, Professionals don't really walk through the door with their mind on their money and their money on their mind.  There's a human element to the game that deserves and receives acknowledgement.  But for many, it seems that acknowledgement stops at 0.  As in, don't be a negative.  As long as we're not hurting the poker environment, poker's cultural norms tolerate and accept all manner of selfish, moneymaking behavior. 

And that's fine. If that mindset works for you, great.  That sounds a little dismissive, so I'll hammer it home:  I really, honestly do think it's great that you love poker for the competitive, adversarial aspects, and it's great if you see it simply as the financial engine that drives the You vehicle.  There's no rule that says poker has to be anything more than a game where the object is winning all the dollars.  If that resonates with you, you can stop reading now.  The rest of this post is dedicated to those who are struggling with the conundrums that Busquet and I and countless others are experiencing.  I don't think less of you as a human being if you aren't having these existential crises.

This year, I decided to go past 0.  Money is not necessarily the object of my game.  Don't get me wrong, I still make my check/bet/raise/call/fold decisions based on what's going to make the most money.  And I reserve the right to lie about what hand I had if you ask.  But while my hand-level tactics remain the same, my game-level tactics have been changing to reflect my lower regard for money.   Instead of being the money-driven Professional, my goal this year is to inject as many positive vibes and meaningful connections into the poker environment as possible.  For simplicity's sake, I still refer to myself as a professional poker player.  But this year, I am playing poker. 

Funny things have started happening since I began using this more-amateurish, playful approach.  I started believing in my "product."  I stopped wanting to be the entertainer, because the entertainer asks you to not look behind the curtain.  Instead, I'm just a player.  Just like the next guy.  

This message is for you, Fellow Poker Player.  I am going to assume you are here for play as well, and that you stepping in to this poker room is just another positive decision in a string of positive decisions in your life.  I am going to think of you as a good person who lives an awesomely different and meaningful life that just so happened to intersect with my own life.  Connecting with you on this plane is going to be a genuinely worthwhile and enjoyable experience.  Like two six-year olds racing to the flagpole, we will be fellow players.  At times, we can pit our strategies against each other and see what happens.  And if you hit a ridiculous off-balance jumpshot to beat me, I might be incredulous, I might laugh, I might even get a little pissed if you hit a bunch in a row, but I'm not going to be pissed at you, because I know what it's like to hit that ridiculous jumpshot... It's all part of the game.  And if you happen to hit that jumpshot at the buzzer in biggest game of our lives, I might even pull a Craig Ehlo and get sad and hide under some chairs while you pump your fist and scream in all your primal glory.  Because for me (and probably you as well), that's part of the fun of games.  It's fun to explore emotional range in the context of games. Mountains need their valleys.  The Tommy Angelo mum-poker stoic response might keep my head the coolest and make me the most money, but it's not the most fun.  Regardless, no matter what I experience emotionally, I won't let that change how I feel about my fellow competitor. 

At other times, we can sit around and bullshit and talk about sports or women or music or whatever else we can find to connect.  That's gonna be cool too.  And if you don't want to talk, that's cool too.  And I'm going to root for you, even if you're a miserable, dealer-abusing prick with no discernible moral direction.  Because you're trying to build a meaningful, happy life for yourself, just the same as me... you just learned to use a different set of assumptions.  And I don't want you to act in a self-destructive manner.  I'd prefer you not bury yourself under a mountain of gambling debt.  If there's something more fulfilling out there that you're ignoring in the name of playing one more hand, I'd prefer you get out and go live your life.

Again, I'm assuming your decision to be here with me is a positive decision you've made for yourself.  So I'm not going to proactively say something to you, even if I get the sense that your demons are winning the battle in your head.  But if your decisions start skewing self-destructively, I hope that the basic, unconditional human respect and decency I'm giving to you can be a reminder that you deserve a life guided by your own positive decisions.  And I hope my behavior conveys that if you ever need to talk, I'll be here to listen.  If you ask for advice, I'll try to give you the best advice I can, not the advice that extracts the money out of your pocket, because how I deal with others is more important to me than my bankroll.  No matter who you are or what you've done, you deserve that much.  And I deserve that much as well.  I don't deserve to be in an environment where I feel compelled to look at anyone as anything less than a fellow human being.