"Are you in?"
"Hell, no. This table has beat the crap out of me. I'm gone."
During the twenty minute drive home, I thought about what'd happened over the previous five or so hours. Earlier in the day, I'd decided to pay a visit to a little room I hadn't seen in over a year. I wanted to avoid the noise and smoke of the big casino and thought the little one might be a nice change.
When I arrived, a tournament was in it's last stages and only two cash games were running. I was seated immediately at table two, seat eight. It didn't take long to understand that most of the players were familiar with each other. As it is with such things, I was a non-entity for a few rounds. I was being quietly sized up, just as I was sizing up my opponents.
I love those times when my spidey poker-sense seem to be particularly attuned. This wasn't one of those times. I kept trying to find the notch, to feel the "click," but it alluded me. The players at the table could've been manikins, for all the good it did me in my efforts to get a read. It was like showing up for an exam, only to find out you'd studied the wrong material. Pots that should have been mine, were pushed across the felt away from me because I got the wrong answer time after time.
Then, of course, there were a couple of bad beats mixed in there, just to make it more interesting, if not painful. The last one, well put a dollar on my bill - all in with kings and two callers with ace-rags. It was time to go home.
However, on the drive home as I thought about the session, replaying hands and tearing apart my decisions, I realized I wasn't overly upset. I'd just dropped three buy-ins and I wasn't wanting to run my car off a cliff. Even as sour as the session was, I'd had a good time. Incredibly, I took my beats, re-bought, and played on. The table completely changed over during the time I was there, but it remained affable and good natured. There were a lot of laughs.
Since realizing that I'm not that "serious" poker player, since setting aside the desire to be a great player, since deciding to just sit down from time to time and play some cards, I'm enjoying the game again. Enjoying it for what it is - a time to sit with some folks and enjoy a few hours together - of course while we each try our darnedest to bust each other. If, in the mean time, I end up becoming a better player, then yay me. Otherwise, I'm just not fretting about it.
I admire the players who have the talent and skill and drive to become great. But I wonder just how much they sacrifice to get there. I'm not that person.
Occurring less often than I'd like, I do relish the times I have moments of brilliance. This last trip to Vegas I managed to leave with more cash in my pocket than what I had upon arrival. A first. I had a couple of stellar sessions which made up for a handful of mediocre ones. I won a small tournament. My first live tourney win. In the blogger tourney, I lasted longer than I have before and didn't run off to sulk after I busted - another first.
Most importantly, I made a point to spend time with friends and keep the poker as background music. As long as I'm able to keep doing that, I think I can keep playing this game. For what it's worth, I've discovered the role poker should play in my life - as a supernumerary and not the lead. Don't get me wrong, the passion is still there. As Otis said, I love the fucking game. I've just put it on a short leash and shown it who's the pack leader*, is all.
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* sorry, the result of a couple of Dog Whisperer marathons
