The Spectrum

One of my favorite shows to watch on TV as a kid was ABC's "Wide World of Sports." We didn't have cable for most of my childhood so I had to take advantage whenever sports were on the tube. I enjoyed that the show covered all kinds of contests, from boxing and cycling to tennis and basketball. The tagline during the opening was Jim McKay saying, "The thrill the victory...and the agony of defeat." The second part was accompanied by a skier experiencing a violent (and I thought maybe deadly) crash during a descent down a hill gone horribly wrong. That image resonated with me throughout my youth, not just for the shock value but also the message it delivered. No matter how bad a loss felt.. that poor skier had it way worse. That truly was the agony of defeat.

Part of growing up, maturing and competing is learning how to lose. Gaining the understanding that this is part of the deal. If you play sports, you are going to lose some of the time. Occasionally even most of the time. You don't have to be cool with it but you have to at least be accepting of it. You will be getting your share of victories, sometimes even thrilling ones. But there will inevitably be some painful defeats. With the occasional agony as well. 

I had to learn this lesson all over again when I started playing poker. Losing is never going to be easy. And it does happen a lot. But how you deal with losing is a key factor in determining how you do over the long-term. Being able to brush off a rough hand or session is paramount if you are going to positively move forward. Letting it linger, going on tilt and playing poorly as a result, this is the biggest killer of poker dreams. Emotional stability is a crucial trait that almost all winning players possess. You will see some crazies go on hot streaks and win a ton over a short period of time. But they die out and fade away. They weren't equipped to right the ship when the tide turned. 

There are two key differences, however, when comparing poker and sports. The first one is getting past the tendency of being "results oriented", especially in the short-term. You win a tennis match 6-0 6-0 or a football game 45-3 and it's pretty clear that you, or your team, played very well. Poker is tougher to evaluate based strictly on results. You can get all your money in the pot with the current best possible hand and still lose. You can also make poor decisions and still win. On any given day, the luck factor can be quite high. Therefore, merely saying "I won" or "I lost" can provide an inaccurate picture of how you played on a certain day. Certainly winning feels better. But what enabled you to win? Could ANYONE have won with your cards? Or did you maximize what you had? Being able to discern this is very important

The other key difference is that in poker, death is always looming. Unless you have the most chips at your table, every single hand can be your last. You can't win the tournament until the very end. But you can lose it on any given hand. In most sports, you have a great number of smaller wins and losses that give you a greater or lesser chance to win the game at the end. If you throw an INT that gets returned for a TD in the first quarter or give up a two run HR in the first inning, you're down but certainly have plenty of time to come back. The poker equivalent does not afford you this luxury. One big mistake can be the end. Skirting around, and even hopping over, the pit of death can be a nerve wracking battle at the table.

But back to the thrill of victory. And the agony of defeat. Poker and sports mirror each other in one key way. Sometimes the line between those two very extreme emotions can be oh so razor thin. One strike away in baseball, one yard away in football, one second away in basketball. Teetering on the seesaw of vastly different emotions before sliding headlong into one extreme. In poker, oftentimes you are one card away, just one little card, from both ends of the spectrum. And that last card can change everything. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, both hanging in the balance. Exultation with one, devastation with the other. 

And with it, that one constant, never-ending, difficult question. The one that separates, ultimately, the winners from the losers.

Can you handle the swings?

Pins and needles

The vast majority of time spent at the poker table involves waiting. Waiting for the cards to be dealt, waiting for the chips to be pushed to someone, waiting for others to act on their hands. Of course the fun part involves the small percentage of time when you are in a hand, contemplating and acting on decisions. But mostly, it's about staying patient and waiting until it's your turn to strike.

The other part of waiting, the fun and scary part, involves waiting on someone else to act once you have placed a bet. Depending on where you are at in the hand, you might be rooting for this person to fold, call or raise you. Early on in the hand, it can be unclear what exactly you want to have happen. But once all the cards are out, after the river, you typically have a pretty good idea. There are instances when you might bet an average hand and be unsure if a person who is debating a call has a better hand than you or not. But most river bets have a clear intent on what they are designed to induce. You will either have a strong hand or a weak hand, thus strongly rooting on the inside for a call or a fold, depending on your holding. And this brings about a special kind of waiting. 

When you have a very strong hand, even the nuts, your internal voice is screaming in rapid succession, "CALL! CALL! CALL! CALL!" while outwardly you are doing everything in your power to project weakness. Slumped shoulders, a scared expression, shifty eyes, whatever might push your opponent over the edge and get those chips to make their way into the pot. Sometimes it works and they call. Other times, it doesn't and they fold. But regardless, you are winning the pot. It's just a matter of how much.

The other end of this.. the scary, but sometimes exhilarating part... is when you have made a bet on the river with nothing. You are bluffing.

"FOLD! FOLD! FOLD! FOLD!"

There is no possible way of winning the pot without getting your opponent to fold. You are trying to represent a hand you simply do not have. If he calls, you're screwed. But if he folds... you have pulled it off.

"CRAP, HE'S GONNA CALL. I'M SO STUPID"

 The size and stakes of the bet will often determine how fast your heart is beating, how dry your throat is, how quickly your mind is racing.

 "WAIT... HE'S GONNA FOLD. I MIGHT BE A GENIUS. C'MON MAN. LET IT GO. LET IT GO!!"

And the more seconds that go by, the harder it is keep the voices in your head silent. They get louder, more insistent and closer to the surface the more time that elapses. Until it's all just a great, big buzz

"ZZAASOFKSDORIJSDFIGSDFGF;GHSFGF;KSG"

If it's early in a tournament, the outcome isn't that big of  deal. However, if it's late, and all your chips are in the pot on a bluff, you know you are going home if you get called. That's the cadillac of bluffing. No safety net. Nothing to save you if this goes wrong. Dangling off the cliff precariously with one simple decision to determine your fate. Call. Goodbye.


But then there are times when it happens. You get the fold. Oh, that fold! What do you do? Exhale? Smile? Show your bluff? It's up to you. But the feeling you get is unparalleled. The ultimate trickery. You made someone think something, and the reality was quite the opposite, You had the stones to put all your chips in there with the very real risk of getting none of them back. But you did, You got them all back and then some. New life, new blood, new chance. 

Now let's go get some more

Growing old

When you are growing up, your life is all about potential. What kind of person will you be? What kinds of things will you be good at? What will it be like when you are "in your prime"?

The prime of one's life varies drastically depending on your viewpoint. You might think it's 18, or 30, or even 50. Some people think whatever age they currently are represents their prime. These are probably the most well adjusted people out there. They recognize the pros and cons with each passing year and embrace everything positive while accepting or dismissing anything negative at the same time. For me, older and wiser is fun. But younger and fresher is fun to look back on as well.

There is one regret that everyone can agree on, however. The toll that Father Time takes on your body. When growing up, each passing year offers more power, speed, flexibility than the one before it. You can run faster, hit a ball farther, shoot from farther out, etc. when you are 8 than when you are 6, 12 than when you are 10. 16 than when you are 14. The whole idea of "I'm going to be even better next year" is fun to have in your back pocket, particularly when you are dealing with a particularly awkward year of growing physically. I had that at 13 and suffered through my roughest athletic year of childhood. Had I peaked at 12? Nope, just had to adjust to the changes of growing up. At 14, I was back on track.

At some point, however, things start sliding down the other side of the mountain. You've spent your whole life climbing towards this physical peak, the absolute best of your abilities, and eventually your body maxes out. Alright fella, we've gone as high as we can go. I've really enjoyed having you on this ride. But it's time we head back. Remember all of the good times when you start to experience these rougher ones. It might not be easy. But please promise to try.

At 37, I am many years past that conversation with my body. I've been on the downward swing for some time now. But it does get more noticeable with each passing year. Jumping ability, lateral quickness, general power.. it's all diminishing year after year. Granted, I rarely put myself through tasks that require much of this. But when I do, playing softball for instance, it's glaring how little my body is capable of compared to 20 years ago. It's life and it happens. But it's still difficult to deal with. Sports will always be "a young man's game."

Poker is a different story. Even as your body is wearing down in your 20s and 30s, many times your mind is still cruising steadily up that same mountain. While it's true that many of the world champions of recent years have been in their 20s. the playing field is far more even in the poker world than in the athletic one. Processing information and making the correct decision in a poker hand is just as easy for me now as it was 10 years ago. Diving to my right to field a ground ball, getting up and firing the ball to first base is certainly not. I can certainly still try it. But I'll likely be bruised and battered afterwards. Father Time will see to that.

But when it comes to poker, the bruised and battered era hasn't arrived for me yet. Oh yes, Father Time is watching and observing, studying from afar. But he understands there is more left in the tank. Plenty more. Maybe even a surplus in there due to inactivity in recent years. But I can't wait too much longer. My mind still feels young now. But like the body before it, it can't stay that way forever. 

I'm still heading up that mountain. And I have some things to do before I start heading down the other side...

A storm rolls in

To most people, Black Friday refers to the day after Thanksgiving. Stores open early and consumers flock in droves in hopes of scoring the best bargains for their early Christmas shopping. It has taken on a more manic behavior with each passing year, with no end in sight. I have yet to participate in these "festivities."

To poker players, Black Friday means something else entirely. It refers to April 15th, 2011... the day the sky fell in. It was an average Friday afternoon at work for me when I got an IM link from a friend with the words, "Uh oh" I clicked on the link and my jaw dropped. A nightmare scenario was playing out on the screen in front of me. I learned that the US Department of Justice had seized the domain names for the three most popular US poker sites, including Full Tilt, the one I played on. Basically the seizure alleged that the sites acted illegally by engaging in bank fraud and money laundering to transfer money to and from their customers. This despite the fact that the sites were licensed and regulated in the countries they operated in. It was a bullying tactic.. and it was successful.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_v._Scheinberg

Just one week prior, I had requested a $1500 withdrawal from my account for my impending honeymoon. My wife I were to be married on April 23rd and were headed to Hawaii two days later. I had received an email from Full Tilt's administration department that my payment was held up, and now I understood why. It turned out that they never segregated their funds so did not have the capital on hand to process withdrawal transactions. It was an incredibly awful transgression, a serious lack of good faith and judgement, and it now affected $600 million of player funds. And while the rest of the world was paid back in a timely manner, US customers were treated differently. Hoops, hurdles, deadlines and promises... finally after a 3rd party administrator took over the proceedings and consulted with the DOJ at an agonizingly slow place, people started to get their money back. I did as well.. all $2700 in my account. Four years later.

But online poker was never the same. My bread and butter for bankroll building was no more. The government had now determined what you could and couldn't do in the privacy of your own home. "Land of the Free" was all a facade. Thousands of professional players moved to Canada, Mexico and other countries in order to play the game they love unencumbered. Millions more, like me, didn't have that road to travel down. So we were left wondering why a county that advertises a chance at the American Dream is the one place that prevents it.

Hopefully things will be better down the road. Legislation and regulation on a state level is moving along, albeit slowly. The optimists believe that in a few years, all the big sites will be back in most of the 50 states. The pessimists think banging your head into a wall is going to be a common practice for releasing frustrations as this moves sideways instead of forward. The reality right now is that while a few sites are open for business to US customers, there isn't nearly enough traffic to be exceedingly profitable. Until regulations occurs in most of the states, frustratingly, the landscape will remain the same. Five years ago, we were well fed with sumptuous meals planned out for days and days.

Now we are all left fighting for scraps.

The things I learned in school

You hear it all the time, from all kinds of people. Why do I need to learn this stuff in school? I'M NEVER GOING TO USE IT LATER IN LIFE. Well, as a poker player, you get a chance to use:

Math:  The obvious one. You'll get dealt AA one of every 221 hands. If you flop a flush draw, it will hit roughly 36% of the time. Knowing how much is in the pot, what hand you are drawing to and if the investment is worth the payoff, is crucial to your success. Sometimes it's about gut, sometimes it's about instinct, and sometimes it's about plain old math. It helps to know it.

History:  This is where a good memory comes in handy. Remembering what certain players did in certain spots against you is so valuable in making decisions. If you know someone is at least capable of making a huge bluff or extremely unlikely to check a huge hand on the flop, it provides great insight into how to best proceed with the hand. If you are disregarding history and playing the same way against everyone, you are ignoring countless potential clues at your disposal. 

English:  Table talk, and how to interpret it, is a vital part of playing optimally as well. Back in 2009, I was playing some one table satellites in Vegas in an effort to win a seat to the main event. There were six of us left, including Victor Ramdin,  a fairly well known tournament pro at the time. A hand came up where Ramdin limped in, along with a few others, and I checked my option with K8. The flop came down K45 and I bet out. Everyone folded to him and he moved all-in immediately. As I pondered, he commented,

"Uh oh, someone has kicker problems." 

He was right. I did. I thought a little bit longer and ended up folding. At which point he showed 67 for nothing but a straight draw. After I relayed the hand to my brother later, I basically said, "Victor Ramdin mind fucked me." He coerced me into a decision he wanted me to make by falsely alluding to the perceived strength of his hand. It was genius, and at the time, I was ill-prepared to interpret what it meant. Well played, sir

Psychology:  So much going on here. Poker is a game of incomplete information and so much of the decision making process involves peeling the layers of who you are up against. The levels of thinking in the game go like this"

1. What do I have?
2. What do I think he has?
3. What do I think he thinks that I have?
4. Etc

Without knowing what level your opponent is on, it becomes more difficult to properly assess what the best move should be. If you are playing against someone who is strictly focused on their hand, running a big bluff in hoping they will fold based on the dangerous makeup of the community cards is asking for trouble. All they think is, I have these cards and that's a pretty decent hand. The flush and straight draws that hit will not register with someone like this. They are operating purely on level 1. When you get into Level 3 and beyond, that's when poker gets really fun. Trying to deconstruct the hand, putting the puzzle together with only a limited number of pieces, brings for some pretty awesome mental gymnastics. I've fallen off the balance beam on many an occasion. But I have stuck a few landings in my day too.

Art and science:  I group these together because they apply to two forms of poker. No limit vs limit games. Limit games are a science. You only have a fixed amount you can bet on every street, so the game is less about creativity and artistry than it is about methodical calculation. Knowing what hands to play, knowing what price you are getting to call a bet, knowing how much is in the pot and what cards are likely to come... there is a very scientific approach to the game

The no limit games can be an art form. You can make any hand into anything you want it to be. You can represent AA even if you have 72 and realistically bet enough to get someone to fold. Because so many NL hands are won without a showdown, there is no way for your opponent to know what you really have. Representing hands and running bluffs are a key part of this game and not nearly as prevalent on the limit side of things

Paying attention:  I'll end with a general practice that applies to playing poker. Letting your mind wander is as much a part of life today as it was in our youth. Falling asleep or gazing out the window made it easier to miss out on various nuggets of information in whatever class you were in. The same applies to poker. Watching TV, looking at your phone, etc. prevents you from gleaning certain things from your opponents that you end up missing out on. How they shuffle their chips, how long they look at their cards, how they throw their bet out.. it all matters. Paying attention, whenever possible, is paramount.

So many other little things from various subjects come up as well. I would say just about every subject from all ages of school can be utilized on some level at the poker table. It's all up there locked away somewhere. Finding the combination is the tricky part.

Punches and counterpunches

A poker tournament is a lot like a boxing match. There is a considerable feeling out period at the beginning before the action picks up and mostly continues through to the end. The aggressor is typically the victor. How you handle getting hit, even knocked down, will ultimately determine your fate. And of course, landing the most punches, winning the most pots, will greatly benefit you in the end.

The $1k WSOP NL hold 'em tourney I played in June of 2009 played out in this manner. Even in one of the smaller buy-in tourneys, the action started slow, no one wanted to take any big risks. Everyone was kind of testing each other, probing here and there, tentatively putting out feelers to see what they could find out. The ebb and flow was jagged during these informational proceedings. I won a few pots and lost a few pots and was even on the scorecards as we entered the action stage of the fight.

Unfortunately,  that stage involved me getting hit repeatedly. Jabs, crosses, body blows, they came from all angles. Every time I raised, someone re-raised and pretty soon my starting hands were resembling the flash cards we used in elementary school math class. 7 and 3, 8 and 4, 9 and 5. I simply didn't have the means to inflict any damage on my opponents. I was backed into a corner and in big trouble. 

Then, like Rocky landing that first big shot against Drago, I drew some blood and fought back. I doubled up with KQ right before the dinner break to get some momentum. Fueled by landing that solid shot, I kept punching and the cards complied. I won three big pots with AK, AA and 88 over the next few hours, along with some other decent ones, and suddenly the tide had turned. I had my opponents on the ropes, landing some big shots, dodging all of theirs and dictating the pace of the action. We were nearing the end of the day and approaching the $$ and I was now well ahead on all three judges' scorecards. 

They fought back some and landed a few shots on me, but I was still in full control when I found 10 10 and raised in early position. Two people called and the flop came down 753 with two spades. The big blind went-all in for about 1/3 of my stack. I went through the mental gymnastics and called him. He showed 99 and I was in great shape. The turn was an ace. I closed in. Ready to deliver the final uppercut. When suddenly... where did that overhand right come from??? A 9 fell on the river.

I was down. Stunned. Woozy. So much for momentum. I staggered to my feet and beat the count. But things had changed. I was off balance now. I tried to recapture all that was working previously but I misplayed one hand and was suddenly back on the ropes myself. Low on chips, short on time, No longer stalking my opponents, they were circling me and out for blood. When I got all in with KQ vs K9 on a KJ9 board, I was two punches away from being knocked out for good. A left and a right later and I was on the canvas and and out of the tournament. 

Some losses are crueler than others, providing more "why didn't I and what if?" scenarios. But the end result is the same. Elimination. Tournament death. And way earlier than you thought it would be.

As you drag your bruised and battered body out of the tournament area, there is shame, there is guilt, there is sadness. You want to fight again, want to fight again soon. But right now, you need time to heal. Hopefully you'll get another shot. Maybe even a title shot. You know you'll need to work your way back up again. But your resolve is there. Even if it takes years, more years than you'd like, you'll do it. Because when you believe in a dream, you don't ever let it truly die.

Poker..meet Kelly. Kelly.. Poker

Between the WSOP in 2008 and 2009, I met my wife. As a single man for the better part of the previous decade, it was certainly an adjustment getting used to sharing my life with someone again. And while the relationship side of me flourished, the poker side of took something of a hit. It made sense. Time, energy, focus, space in my brain... I simply could not consume poker in the same manner as before. Working 8 hours a day and playing 3-4 hours of poker at night was a fairly standard schedule for me prior to March of 2009. I had put in a lot of time and played an uncountable amount of hands to get to where I was. And the reality is that not being in a relationship allowed for the climb. I had the time, I had the drive, I made the decision to spend a large chunk of my "free" time playing this game. And while it was somewhat isolating at times, I wouldn't change the arc of how everything played out. It made into a good poker player. And it led me to Kelly.

When we first started dating, I would try to walk through big hands that I played. I'd get into my thought process, how it shifted throughout the hand and what I was looking to do. Eventually, the story concluded and I'd eagerly await her reaction about how fascinating the whole thing was. But instead:

"Soooooo, you lost?"

"Yeah, but...."

Ugh. Ok fine, so she was a little more results oriented than I'd like. She has always been supportive of this endeavor and knows how fiercely I care about the game. I rode that support to Vegas again in June of 2009 to play one of the preliminary $1k events at the World Series. 

And it's in that event that I played the hand that I think about more than any other.. even to this day.

Unfortunately, it's less dream and more nightmare...

Achievement unlocked

Father's Day 2008 was jam packed from start to finish. As with most years, I spent it in Wausau playing, errrrr participating, in the annual Gus Macker 3 on 3 basketball tournament. For the past 15 or so years, my dad had been forced to spend most of his day out on the blacktop, watching his sons among others sweating it out against hoopsters from around the Midwest. The skill level on Will's court was significantly higher than it was on mine, but he seemed to enjoy the action equally as much. As someone who prefers anonymity over attention, having other things to do on Father's Day suited him just fine.

Typically, we'd gather late afternoon or early evening to have a meal before hitting the road back to the twin cities. This year was different though. At 5:00 I would be playing the big online qualifier for the World Series of Poker main event. $500 buy in. One $12k package for every 24 entrants. And it was going to be a big one. They were guaranteeing 100 seats, so anticipating at least 2400 players. I had played in two smaller ones over the previous few weeks without success. This would be my last chance to win a satellite seat to play. The basement at 610 Ross was the venue of choice.

Going deep in a poker tournament is about playing well, running good and receiving the occasional dose of good fortune. I received a major dose a few hours into the tournament. Someone raised and I elected to just call with two kings (oops) and somehow, four other people called behind me. It had become a huge pot even before the flop rolled out 9 4 2 with two spades. Before I could even process it, the small blind immediately went all-in. It folded to me and I didn't think too long before moving all-in as well. Then the button called off HIS entire stack and suddenly we had an enormous pot and I was fully expecting to be way behind. The small blind had the nut flush draw and the button had 44 for a set. I was crestfallen, dead to the last two kings (I had the K of spades) in the deck. The dream would officially be dead... BUT WAIT... KING ON THE TURN!! I actually yelled, "KING!!" when it popped off, I was in a state of shock. That's the thing about poker though. You can be on top of a cliff one moment and fall all the way to the bottom the very next. But sometimes the opposite is true as well. And so, I had back to back heart attacks for totally different reasons. The river was clean and suddenly I had a monster stack and was riding a huge wave of momentum.

Satellite tournaments are a much different dynamic than regular tournaments because there is no first place. All you need to do is finish in the top X% and you claim the prize. In this tourney, they ended up giving away 125 seats.. so everyone had their eye on that 125th place, that was all that mattered. It was with that in mind, as we neared 200 people left, that I made a pretty large mistake. I might have had enough chips to coast until 125 but I decided to put the big blind for a decision to all of his chips with K8 offsuit from the small blind. I had about 150k in chips and he had about 80k with the blinds at 2k/4k. He thought forever, used up his whole time bank and ultimately decided to call for his tournament life with AJ. His hand held up and just like that I was hovering around the danger zone with the blinds going up to 3k/6k. Winning a seat was no longer a sure thing, it was legitimately in doubt.

Around this time, my cousin Ben had stopped over at the and made his way down to the basement. A poker buff himself, he was all about hanging out for the duration and sweating out every hand. And I definitely needed his positive energy at that point. I had just taken a pretty big body blow.

I was closely monitoring the standings and with 160 or so people left, it was obvious I wouldn't be able to just fold my way to a seat. I'd need to win a few more chips. So when I had dwindled down to 45k or so, I raised all-in from the cutoff with A5 offsuit, not the strongest of hands but it seemed like my best spot. The blinds were 5k/10k and I still had a little bit of fold equity. I wanted everyone to fold but the small blind decided to call. I was terrified I'd be dominated but he just had K4 and was just looking for the knockout. Still, my tournament life was at stake and my heart was beating through my chest as the community cards came out... clean... clean.. CLEAN!! I continued clutching Benny for another few seconds as we yelled at each other in celebration. I was up over 100k again in chips and wasn't planning on putting another chip in the pot unless I was forced to.

And it turned out those chips were all I needed. About 45 agonizing minutes later, someone finished in 126th place. It was over.

"That's it!!  That's IIIIIITTTTTTT!!!" as we danced around the room. It was 1 AM. 8 hours later and it was in the books. I was going to Vegas. To play in the World Series.

We went to Pro Players for a late night drink. It was one of my favorite ones ever. As far as celebrating goes, it tasted pretty damn good. I had dreamt about this for six years. And now, it was here. I was dizzy, on a high I could hardly believe or imagine.

Two weeks later, I'd board a plan and head west for the desert for an all-time experience. The poker itself didn't go great, I got knocked out of the tournament late on the first day. 

Here is what I wrote back in 2008:

http://seriesme.blogspot.com/2008/07/just-average-dayexcept-completely-not.html

But being there was everything I'd ever imagined and more.

Now I just needed to figure out.. was this the end of the story, or only the beginning?

Mano e mano

Poker is beautiful in its complexity but also in its simplicity. Cutting through all the complex factors that can affect the outcome of a hand, the finality is simple. If you make it to the end with the best hand, you win. How you get there can be perilous and daunting but if you arrive and come out on top, the chips are headed in your direction. Figuring out the best way to defeat others is paramount to poker success. What works against one person will have disastrous results against someone else. The key is figuring out who you are up against.

It's with that in mind that I was drawn to a different type of poker game online: Heads up. Just you against one other competitor. One winner, one loser. I prefer the Sit N Gos, which are structured events with you and your opponent starting with the same amount of chips, the blinds rising and play continuing until one of you has them all. Heads up is often called the purest form of poker because it forces you into marginal decisions with marginal hands and requires you to make these decisions often, as you are involved in every hand. There is no time to fold, fold, fold and wait for premium cards. You have to mix it up and get a little dirty. Once I discovered these, I fell deeply in love.

And I had good success as well. Bankroll management is a necessary (and difficult) skill to master for any poker player. I certainly have had a dizzying learning curve with this over the years. Knowing how much to risk on a certain game, relative to how much you have overall, and sticking to that amount is so crucial. The heads up games were good because I could play a certain limit game until I had X amount in my bankroll and then move up from there. It helped me start out at the $20 games and steadily increase until I was playing $220, $330 and even $550 games in late 2007 and 2008. I played 35 games at the $550 level and went 18-17. Looking back on where I began, with the $5 games at the 213, I was proud and humbled about the rise I had experienced. I had learned a ton, taken on several bumps and bruises and steadied myself every time I got knocked off balance. Becoming comfortable with losing a lot in order to eventually win even more. And having a deep understanding of the greater goal in mind through everything. This was a marathon, not a sprint. Once I fully appreciated that, I never looked back.

So it was the spring of 2008. My poker game was eons better that it had been during that first hand in 2003. I'd had some tourney success, both live and online, plenty of online sit n go success and my bankroll online was over $6k when I decided to tackle what I deemed then to be the final frontier. I wanted to take my shot against the best of the best. And fortunately they would all be gathering in Vegas soon. It was almost summer. Which meant the World Series of Poker was right around the corner...

Climbing, climbing, climbing

The call came about 11:00 from Will that night.

"Dude, I'm playing in this tournament on Poker Room. 30 people left and I have a lot of chips. Going after it."

I whooped and logged onto the site so I could watch. Sure enough, he was raking in pots and rising in the ranks. I went to bed about midnight with 15 people left and he promised to let me know how it finished up.

When I woke up there was a message from him on my phone. I only remember the first few lines:

"Yeahh boy!! Man... 7 hours later... 3500 dollars richer..."

He had taken second for by far our biggest score to date. I jumped so high I nearly hit my head on my bedroom ceiling as a surge of something fierce rocketed through me. Yes. YES! Atta kid!!! One of us had finally broken through and it felt like it was only the beginning.

And sure enough, Jesse final tabled a tourney at Full Tilt for over $1k shortly thereafter. I did for about the same. Things were starting to happen. The seeds we had sown were getting some water, a little sunlight and starting to break through the ground. These plants were nice. But I wanted a damn garden.

Before too long, I was ready to make my foray into live poker at a casino. It was a little daunting at first but I knew my understanding of the game had reached the point where it was time. My previous ignorance about what hands to fold and what amounts to bet were gone. Now it became merely about following the action and recognizing the right plays to make. I was fortunate enough to live less than 30 minutes from Canterbury Park, one of the most notable poker venues in the midwest. Living in central Wisconsin, Will and Jesse didn't have the same luxury.

My 3rd or 4th live tourney, I got 5th place in a $200 event for $1918. I distinctly remember how fast my heart was beating during big hands. I made a huge raise with a full house and my entire body was bouncing on the inside with boundless energy as I sat there stoically and silently. As I navigated my way through the field of 130 people, excitement started to grow as we neared the final table. With 12 people left, someone raised in late position and I looked down at two queens, the best starting hand I'd seen all day. I went all-in and the raiser decided to call with A7. I was a big favorite and if my hand held up, I'd be a cinch to make the final table. I was internally screaming at the top of my lungs for the queens to hold and through the flop, turn and river... they did.

The big time. We're here. Final. Fucking. Table. Without really knowing where I was climbing and when I'd reached the peak, that moment felt like an ascension of sorts. From slinging quarters around at the 213 to handing over our drivers licenses to the tourney director so proper tax reporting could be down on the thousands of dollars that were at stake. It wasn't necessarily the mountain we'd all dreamed about. But I had definitely scaled something. Going out in 5th...not winning...was irrelevant. This was a landmark moment. It felt big and satisfying and exciting.

I had no idea how much it would take to climb the other mountains. But for the first time I could actually see them with my eyes, far off in the distance.

The Honeymoon

I still remember the screen names.

Myself: Jefferking25
Will: 213assassin
Jesse: macbond21
Brent: beastslayer
Shane: UWEC2020

Those were our identities when we logged onto the Poker Pages site at the 213 in Eau Claire and played free poker tournaments during 2003 and into 2004. We were smack dab into that stage of the poker relationship when everything was new, exciting and fun. You could never get enough and you only wanted more. We'd go to the bars and rush home to play in the 2 AM tourney. We'd yell out different hands from our respective rooms when were involved in a big pot. We cheered for and rooted against each other vehemently depending on the situation. We were ultra competitive and hungry for success.

And this was with no money involved.

The daily discussions were delusional and unrealistic, but we couldn't help but dream big. How many WSOP bracelets would our collective group win? 3? 5? 10? The predictions were not grounded in any kind of reality, but suspended one where the paths and outcomes could play out as we please. The sky was the limit. We would take the poker world by storm.

But like most relationships, the initial love and passion is unsustainable. The unbridled feelings you never want to end do just that. Hot and heavy quickly turns to cold and light. And you move in another direction.

It happened quickly for Shane, and soon after for Brent. Other things took precedence as they realized poker was not a long-term endeavor. Shane ended up quitting before investing any money online. Brent deposited a few times and played casually before bowing out shortly thereafter. 

That left Jesse, Will and I. The games online were getting bigger with more and more people catching the poker bug. The three of us each deposited a few hundred bucks and immediately began racing against each other to find out who could make a big score first.. who could actually back up their talk with a little bit of walk? Who could sprinkle a little bit of substance on our absurd fantasies? And would that simply open the floodgates for us all to burst onto the scene?

It wouldn't take long to find out...

The Right Kind of Drug

In the beginning, there was video poker. North Star in Bowler, St. Croix in Turtle Lake, Ho Chunk in Nekoosa and Mystic Lake in Prior Lake. Those were the four venues. Johnson was with me a lot. We'd sit at side by side machines and press the buttons that would ultimately lead to our riches. We had little sayings too depending on what card we needed. My favorite was probably, "Where's Pete at?" whenever we kept 66 and needed a third 6. Our friend Pete, a beastly man, didn't help us out very often.

As you might imagine, there were more losses than wins on the video poker circuit but we collected some memories nonetheless. And I managed to hit royal flushes on back to back Friday nights for around $2200 total at North Star and Mystic Lake. That was pretty fun. The inevitable, "Maybe I'm GOOD at video poker" started to seep in, no matter how ridiculous I knew it was. We were playing against machines. This is not something that can be won. It's all set up for you to lose. And ultimately, that's what we did. Game over.

One of my favorite scenes in the movie Blow is when George Jung is lying in his prison cell and has his life altering conversation with Diego. Diego asks George about his dream after he got busted selling weed. George mentions that his dream failed because he got caught. Diego disagrees.

"No. You failed because you had the wrong dream."

George Jung's eye opening realization and his ultimate transition from selling marijuana to cocaine was similar to the one I experienced in moving from video poker to poker. This makes so much more sense. This is far more profitable and lucrative. This is way more fun and challenging. I should have been doing this all along. 

I'll admit that initially the intimidation factor was real. My only real experience with watching poker was the grainy ESPN footage of old dudes who looked they'd smoked a million cigs and been in a thousand fist fights. Sometimes the cards were face down, sometimes the cards were face up, how much do you bet, how do you act, it all seemed so foreign. I think I like that but I have no idea what that is. 

Video poker allowed me the thrill of making big hands without the tension of all the other decisions that seemed to be in play during an actual game. How do I act? How much do I bet? When should I fold? Does someone else have me beat? I didn't have to worry about any of that stuff. All I had to do was push the button and hope that my third 6 showed up when the next three cards were dealt. That other stuff seemed way too complex, far too complicated and appeared to required a whole new dimension of intelligence and understanding. 

Fortunately, 2003 arrived just in time. An unknown accountant from Tennessee won the World Series of Poker in Vegas and $2.5 million. His name was Chris Moneymaker.

His legacy was the poker boom.

The Missing Chapters

I was staring silently out of our kitchen window when it all officially formed in my head. I had just tossed my phone onto the couch in disgust after reading the grossly distasteful email from the company who had chosen not to hire me. Tossed the phone like it was on fire. Ahhh, get away from me! You're dirty! There were a few different ideas swirling around my head over the last several days and at that moment they finally merged. And it all made sense. My next path would be following the answer to the simple question: What was I good at?

When I was 21, I took a semester off from college to take on a writing project on my brother's high school basketball team. It was a half baked idea that I eventually got in the oven and turned the heat up pretty high. My brother Will was a great talent, set to play in college the following year, and the team itself was picked to win the conference for the first time in more than a decade. I knew I wanted to get back and watch as many games as I could, so I decided to be an author as well as a fan. I went to practices, talked to the guys and generally immersed myself in the season. They were a tight knit bunch, the starting five had been playing together since they were 12. It had all the makings of a memorable 2000-2001 campaign.

And it was. They shrugged off some early season struggles and dominated down the stretch on the way to winning the conference. They were saddled with all the expectations, and they had a blast proving everyone right. The stage was set for something magical in the playoffs. And then they were shocked on their home court in the playoff opener. It was brutal. It was painful. But it was life. You rarely get the ending you want. The journey is what matters, is what endures, is what makes for the most lasting impact. 

But as someone who was writing about the team, I still felt robbed. Selfishly, I felt I didn't get the ending I deserved. This story wasn't supposed to play out this way. I wanted the feel good final version, not the "what lessons did we learn" one. For whatever reason, try as I might, I just couldn't write about that final game. Couldn't tie a ribbon on the season. Wasn't able to come up with the final two chapters. And never finished the story. I still kick myself about it today, 15 years later. There was some good stuff in there. I was proud of it. But very few people saw any of it. And now, two floppy discs and a couple of transferred CDs later, the words are just jagged messages from a different era.

I've done some sporadic writing since then but nothing rivaled that time regarding the focus and passion I had. I guess it's more or less coming to terms with my limitations. I can't just sit at a computer and churn out something entertaining off to top of my head. I have found that I require a specific, current subject matter in order to be driven to write consistently well. That's what I had with the basketball season. And now, finally, I have another chance to right that wrong from my past. To take on another challenge, write about something I love that involves another unknown road.

And this time, to write the end to the story, no matter what it might be. I believe I am a good writer, and can maybe even be great.

Now... about that poker thing...

When We Were Young

Drive east on 94 from Minneapolis through Wisconsin
Get off at exit 59, the first one for Eau Claire
Drive four miles and exit at Clairemont
Take Clairemont to the right and go another four miles and turn left on Menomonie
Take Menomonie until it turns into Water Street
Take Water until 7th avenue
Take a left and stop in front of the first house after the American Legion Parking lot.
You've arrived - 213 7th Avenue Eau Claire, Wisconsin

The blue minivan made this trip a great number of times between the fall of 2002 and the summer of 2005. I came as a visitor but it felt more like I was arriving home when I walked in that door. It was a place where an impossible amount of memories were formed and ridiculous statements were made. A place where one roommate wondered, "What the hell is in the water in Wausau?" and another came out his bedroom at 4 AM and said, "I made a boo boo." We drank Beast Lights, ate Rocky Rococo's, they attended an occasional class and I smoked an occasional cig. My brother lived there with three others, and they came to accept me, one of them begrudgingly, as an adopted roommate as well. And I proceeded to take couch sleeping to the next level.

I came for the camaraderie, I came for the laughs, and eventually, I came for the poker.

In the beginning, it was all about your bag of quarters. Everyone would bring theirs and plop it down in front of them at the table. Buy-in was $5, or 20 quarters. The prize for winning was typically $20, or 80 quarters to add to your collection. The heavier the bag, the greater your standing in the house. This was when we experienced our first successes and setbacks, determined how best to be coy and tricky, witty and difficult. The stakes weren't high, but the end game mattered. Losing sucked. And figuring out how not to lose became paramount. 

For a few of us, the seeds were planted for the possibility of something bigger down the road. We didn't really know what that meant. Only that something was blooming. But did anyone want to water it?

The present is the past is the future

During the spring of 1997, almost exactly 19 years ago, I had a tough decision to make about my future. College was fast approaching in the fall and I had narrowed my options down to two: Hamline and Minnesota. Two very different universities that would in all likelihood allow for very different college experiences. Hamline offered the chance to continue to play baseball and soccer, two of my favorite things in the world, at a smaller, intimate campus. Minnesota was where two of my best friends were headed, along with several others from Wausau, and presented more of a "there's no telling what might happen" possibility for the next four(ish) years. What I basically had to decide was this: How badly do I want to keep playing sports competitively and have this make up a large chunk of my college experience?

I went back and forth a few times, but ultimately I chose Minnesota. I decided to close the door on having sports occupy so much of my time and energy. My college years were supreme, memorable and life changing. No part of me believes I should have chosen differently. But there are still moments, even today, where I can't help but wonder. What if. What if I had gone to Hamline and continued to play baseball well? I played in three Wisconsin state tournaments, when I was 12, 16 and 18. I had mashed the ball as well as anyone on the field. I was a 2nd team all-state selection my senior year of high school and there was little reason to think I couldn't play well in college. 

The hope for most that take up sports at a young age is that you can play long enough to reach your ceiling. Be it middle school, high school, college or beyond, there typically becomes a point when you can say to yourself, "Ok, this is as far as I go." Be it desire, injuries or overall talent, the time comes for everyone. A tiny percentage ascend to the professional ranks in their particular sport and break all the rules. But the road ends for almost everyone else.

This wasn't necessarily the case with me. The summer before college I played some of my best ball and was a key cog in our American Legion squad getting 3rd place at the state tournament in August. When we lost that final game, that was it for me. Five of my teammates were going to play in college. But I had made the decision that meant my "career" was over. As I left the field and approached my parents, it all hit my at once. All the innings, all the fields, all the games. I started sobbing the exact moment I reached them. Good bye, baseball.

Nineteen years later, the memories are still fresh. They swoop down less frequently now, but they still land on me from time to time. Certain plays, good and bad, are still there and always will be. I remain confident that I took the right path. But where did the other one lead?

Well now, as a 37-year old, married father of two, I am about to head down the unkown road. Not the baseball path. That one was walled off long ago. But another path has emerged over the last ten years. It has been paved with heavy gravel at some times and sticks and stones during others. But right now, there is smooth cement for as far as I can see. I have no idea where it leads, what dead ends I will find and unexpected turn offs that will loom. But this time, there won't be any wondering. 

That "what if?" question will be answered.

And maybe, just maybe, if things break right, if I find my rhythm, I can put all of the pieces of this puzzle together. And I will finally find out if being a professional poker player is my calling.

The End is the Beginning

At 4:00 in the afternoon of March 7th, I was called into my boss's office and informed that my presence at the company would no longer be required. Even if you are working at a job you don't love, it's still a giant blow to the ego to receive this kind of news. You are basically being told, "we are going to keep going as is, but you are not bringing enough to the table to warrant being kept around." Regardless of your age or occupation, this is a damaging message to hear. You have been deemed sub-par, unsatisfactory, not worthy of holding a position at this company. They are confident they can find someone better than you and keeping you would not be a wise investment. Good bye, thanks for everything, we made a mistake and we are fixing it now. We will not be a part of your life anymore.

This was the second time in just over a year that I had received news such as this. The messages were quite different, but the reality was the same...A boss or manager looking me in the eye and telling me that my time there was done. I left my second job with far less bitterness than I left the first, but another finality of employment termination cut me deep. The overwhelming personal sentiment of "I got screwed!" from last February had now been replaced by a new one:

"Maybe I just suck?"

I was fortunate enough to receive a referral for a contact at a new company for an open position. It was a business development role with an emphasis on relationship management and customer service, right in line with a favorite position from my past. I had an initial phone interview, followed by seven different interviews over the course of four days during the next three weeks. The people, the culture, the vibe all seemed perfect aligned with the person I am and what I wanted my professional experience to be. The constantly chased work hard/play hard motto seemed to legitimately exist there, and when I left the final interview, I felt confident, optimistic and excited that I had done everything possible to ensure I would be working there in the very near future.

Three days later, I received a generic, automated email from their recruiting department:

Our placement process is designed to carefully assess each applicant's skills, abilities, and interests relative to the career opportunity. After a thorough review of your background and skills,  we will continue our search and pursue other candidates.

This was a company that worked directly with consultants to make workplaces more effective through open and honest communication. And they didn't even have the decency or courtesy to make a phone call to share the news with me. Seven interviews. And a "thank you, but no" automated email in response. I kept waiting for the joke, the punchline, is candid camera still a thing?

But no, this was real. We really appreciate you taking the time to drive to our office four different times and spend eight hours in our building. Now, please go away and leave us alone.

It was a final straw of sorts. Fuck these interviews. Fuck managers. Fuck progress reports and mid year reviews. Fuck early morning and late afternoon meetings. Fuck metrics. Fuck hitting your numbers. Fuck office politics. Fuck staying late to catch up. Fuck a lack of accountability and communication. Fuck. It. All.

But now what?