Playing Poker with Jesus

I've been sitting here playing Poker Superstars Deluxe on my laptop, which is pretty good, as far as PC poker goes. You get to play against the Superstars of Poker, as the name suggests. However I must register my outrage at the exclusion of Phil Gordon: adventurer traveler, poker professional, TV Personality, and my personal hero/TV boyfriend. At any rate, it is kind of fun to imagine you are playing against the likes of Gus Hansen and Howard Lederer. The thing that differentiates it from other PC poker games is that playing against an imaginary player is fun, but playing against an imaginary celebrity is exciting. Or at least it has an edge over playing against the likes of Min and Derek and Marty.

But, I was playing it tonight after about two or three weeks of playing it for an hour or two almost daily. Shawn turned on the Red Green Show and my attention started to drift. I'm playing hands when I shouldn't be or I'm folding when I shouldn't. At one point I drew Big Slick-suited and I started to pay attention. I really threw myself into the hand, thinking, "Maybe if I imagine hard enough, I'll enjoy this as much as I do the face-to-face games." I mean, not to throw myself a pity party or anything, but I can't round up a regular game to save my life! Nor have I been successful at horning in on anyone else's regular game. I realize your poker posse is a tight knit group, but, come on! I'm funny, I don't drink, I don't talk too much at first and especially not much when I'm playing. Yeah, I know what you're saying: desparate much?

So, anyway, I threw myself into the PC game as much as I do when playing in one of the rare live games I get to participate in. I imagined I was sitting there with the Superstars and I was really playing. I was trying to bluff, trying to read them (they have no tells, I mean, they just sit there!), trying to change up my style. Finally, I just gave up. It doesn't really matter how much I throw into the game mentally; I'm playing against a bunch of ones and zeros. I have to tell you, it kind of bummed me out. Here I had a regular game and it just fizzled out on me.

But then it dawned on me: it's playing poker with real people that I really enjoy. There is a certain electricity in the air when everyone in the room is doing mental acrobatics. It's the only chance I get to try to fake out my Dad, who watched over me as a teenager and knows all of my moves. I get to try to stare down my Mom (who rarely does anything wrong in real life) like she's in late for curfew and she's not giving up a thing. Only when Riley calls for a snuggle on the couch does her facade slip and she folds like a tent. My Grandma is her own. Because of her status as matiriarch, I just watch. I don't try any funny business with her. But, just watching is sometimes enough; she's usually got 4-to-a-something and counts on her fingers when looking for a straight. And Shawn, dear Holmes. Sometimes I know and sometimes I think I know, but I'm never sure which is which. I suppose that's what I like so much about him: he's so mysterious.

I'm sure everyone I've mentioned above thinks they've got my number too. And they probably do. But I don't care. After every hand we whoop it up for the winner and debrief our cards. We used to debrief every hand, but ever since we started watching the pros on the World Poker Tour broadcasts and Celebrity Poker Showdown, we've all gotten a bit more savvy and play things a bit closer to the vest. Sometimes, though, we like to brag about our hole cards, especially when we just can't believe everyone folded when we had pocket rockets. Sometimes you just have to crow.

Our main game is No Limit Texas Hold'em played with real ceramic chips and cards from a casino (my deck is from The Palms). Sometimes, we even use a squeegee in the manner of a croupier, dragging our winnings over to our chip stacks. We don't usually have a buy-in; we're all in it for the glory of being the chip leader. Also, no on likes to go home broke.

As I was saying though, we play it for the joy and thrill of letting our chuztpa fly. We are different when playing poker. We get to snap at each other and get away with it. We also try to predict what the others might have and try to read their body language to find tells. Read that last sentence one more time. It's OK. I'll wait. We are messing around with the quantum. It's a bit like trying to communicate telepathically or trying to read the future. (I must admit I've gotten this idea from the TV show Joan of Arcadia: read this recap to see my "scientific source") Here's the quote to save you the effort; I believe it also applies to poker:

Luke says [chess is] just strategy, and a little bit of living in the future. Will doesn't want to hear any more talk about the future. Luke: "That's how it works, Dad. You see four moves ahead, it's empirical. You see five moves ahead, it's still grounded in science. I mean, who knows where the demarcation is? Now, if you see twelve moves ahead, maybe you're crossing over into the psychic phenomenon. And maybe -- maybe that's what a psychic does; she just reads the board of life better than we do."


Sometimes, when I'm having a good night, I feel psychic. I see the cards I want in my mind and they show up. It really is a rush of energy to feel so tuned in to the cards. It's even more wonderful to be able to read the others. It doesn't happen very often for me, but it occurs to one of us at least once or twice during a playing session (about the length of a nap of a toddler).

Most of the time reading tells and bluffing and willing the next card to be a jack are just a shot in the dark. It's mostly just guessing. My Dad taught me how to read some general tells, although I suspect he may be refraining from giving all his secrets away. But when I have busted someone, that is, I can tell from the look on their face what their hand is, I see this flash of humanity. For a brief moment I see them, just as they are. The opposite is also true; my poker buddies have caught me on many occaision and I know what it feels like to be seen.

As a result, we are more than family for a short time. We are buddies. It's an important trust. I guess I see how introducing someone new into the circle is like trying to break in new shoes. And the synergy we experience as a group is much like the synergy I felt when I played trumpet in a brass quintet (my most favorite-sized ensemble for this very reason). And it's so rare that I want to protect and sustain it. I guess I do have a regular poker game after all, if playing whenever you can find the time and are together counts as regular.

For the most part, group events/outings these days wear me out. There is so much posturing and white noise and negativity that I come home from most gatherings quite drained. But I'm always sorry to break up the Miller game. I'm almost never the one to call "last round," and if I lose all of my chips, I volunteer to deal. I just want to be a part of it, to sit at the table and really look at them and hear them and pray with them. That's what it feels like: joyful prayer. We're all hoping for an eight to complete that gut-shot straight draw or one more heart to fill out this flush. All of that hope in the room makes me feel like maybe Jesus (no, not him) is there too. I know that's a strange thing to say, but, how else can you explain all the love and goodwill straining the rafters over our card table? No wonder I'm over Poker Superstars Deluxe.