CuppaGemma

If scientific reasoning were limited to the logical processes of arithmetic, we
should not get very far in our understanding of the physical world. One might as
well attempt to grasp the game of poker entirely by the use of the mathematics
of probability.   Vannevar Bush

Texas Hold’em is a game about which I would like to know both more and less.

Less because it reminds me of the distasteful smell of thick billfolds, cigars, french fries and marriage. More because understanding people how they attempt to maneuver you, how you could maneuver them is intriguing. And more because there is something in the brokenness of greed to see banker boys going bald in better suits, yet still the same silly kids spilling ketchup on their pants in the heat of a moment.

French fries, it would appear is something not to be outgrown regardless of socio-economic status. I suppose it would be useful to know a bit about the cards too, but the whole game really is about something else.

It’s what happens between hands.

“Having the nuts” means you are the man on the top of the game.  Beyond Sklansky even, you own it and the pot like some desired woman will be yours. But really what the game is a little bit of math and a lot a bit of tom foolery. I like the game without the cards. Though much can be said for how they are held, thrown and the “what you do” with your chips.

How do you earn trust and then make that into something for your own benefit, to be used against the person who has now disrobed their mind or their hand a little bit more than is proper? They are all like peacocks or turkeys trying to subtly grandstand out one another.  That’s the whole point of the game. To get into their head, know what they are thinking and play three steps ahead of it. The wisest player of all never forgets it is a game, no more and no less.

I recall nights in Tokyo when the games were smaller and I’d bring drinks and noshes back and forth. I didn’t mind the task since I was wholly amused at the posturing and the talk- like a really good bout of marbles and pool chicken rolled up into one and with a couple of hundred dollars at stake.

The games then went on larger pots and more appropriate venues since it would be passe to order in Domino’s pizza and drink domestic.  The bigger leagues meant the American Club, cigars and somewhat better hamburgers. Then you play for four and five figures.

There was something about the game of manipulation and blank faces or innocuous questions that both riled and made me want to pay attention.

If you know the game you can understand it, and outwit it- or at the very least sense the marionette strings that are being tied to your arms. Then you can tangle them because you understand the connections.

If money’s not an issue, then there is no issue.  That snips the strings and stabs the heart of ego with a rusted dagger.

Once you see the pot as a pile of bills and nothing more you’ve bested the players, because there is no competition, the pot is just money.

Money without desire is just a bunch of numbers. It could be compared with a ladies afternoon of shopping and haggling. Frocks and baubles. The power of retail conquest.  And to compare the game of men with the arena of what women do causes discomfort below the navel, since prowess is compromised by comparison.

Damned metaphors stain the mind.

“Out out brief candle….

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

signifying nothing.”