Bigger Deal

I have recently undertaken a change in my life that has, for better or worse, altered my perception in a seemingly unchangeable way. I have begun my internet poker career.

Although this opening may seem slightly melodramatic, it does contain an element of truth, in that poker has become an increasingly important part of my existence. What I have achieved in this transition is, for the most part, a higher win rate, greater experience over more hands, and an overwhelming sense of social self-exclusion. Internet poker is in truth, mundane, and the only element of fun involved is winning money. However this itself comes at a price; I have, aged 20, become unnervingly uninteresting.

Over the past few months since I snubbed bricks-and-mortar poker rooms, I have found myself fabricating excuse after excuse for not wanting to participate in any sort of social event, and my raison d’être has become taking the hard earned money of other people. I would like to stress that I have no moral inhibitions about this, even if it is not the definition of an ideally respectable profession. No, my problem with poker is that it is quite soul- destroying to think that money is the means and the end of 35 hours of my week. There is no service provided, no customer relations, and no real interaction with anything or anyone; conversation is limited mainly to equating people’s play to that of different species of unintelligent animal. And it’s boring.

I feel that, at the moment I am a part of a growing movement in poker, and fun and enjoyment have no place in such movements. Poker has ceased to be about big hands, bluffing and hero calls all made, in the most part, to be retold later in embellished fashion to the next poker player who comes within talking distance. Instead, poker is about long-term profitability, equity analysis, and bankroll management, and this to me sounds about as interesting as IT consultancy, or international trade law. There appears to be a myth about the professional poker player that his lifestyle choice is one of smoky rooms, sunglasses and table talk, when in reality poker is a long solitary grind and everybody has an hourly rate, something that was not apparent to me before Poker Tracker.

In truth, whatever the advantages of internet poker (and those are many), I do miss my trips to ‘the Vic’ or ‘The Gutshot’. The idea of sitting down with real people and playing poker with real cards seems all too exotic to me right now. There is no sense of ‘fun’ in being sat on a table with people called such overly imaginative names as ‘Green Plastic’ or ‘durrr’ playing across multiple tables, listening to the infernally monotonous Poker Stars beeps as each new hand is dealt five hundred times an hour. Where is the enjoyment? Where is the guy who moans to everyone about his latest bad beat? What about the customary poker banter of ‘I think I just hit my flush,’ or ‘I think I have one of those kings’? Where’s the surly, unhelpful dealer who always finds time for sarcasm? Where’s the unintelligible mess of an anecdote from the cardroom drunk? Where’s the strange feeling of camaraderie between the regulars? Where are the free sandwiches? Where’s the bar?

In essence, what I am saying is that the internet has robbed me of any sense of glamour or excitement about poker. The day of the maverick broke-one-day-rich-the-next poker player is well and truly ending, and what we are seeing is the rise of the low-risk-allow-for-standard-deviation-and-variance-through-shrewd-bankroll-management Sklansky school of poker. How very dull indeed. The question of Why is obviously answered: it may be very nice to think of the professional gambler as Lancey Howard playing 5-card stud, with the fantastic sound bite of ‘poker: it’s all about doing the wrong thing at the right time,’ going through his head as he bets his three-runner straight flush draw all the way against ‘the Kid’s’ open aces up and hits. But that is not exactly the definition of profitable poker, and as my brother put it (probably quite correctly), ‘Lancey Howard’s really just another donk on an upswing.’ Poker is actually about making the right move at any time and hoping to be lucky enough to not be unlucky, and there’s very little excitement about that.

What internet poker offers is, in reality, something far different from this; internet poker is far more convenient, well regulated, and profitable than the live game. To even beat the table charge at the Vic in the self-dealt tables requires a win rate of over 10ptBB/100 hands, and for that alone, I would say, it’s just not worth it. Live poker is great for the people that want to have a fun night out, but my idea of a fun night can usually be defined by my win rate.

And so I will make my own chicken sandwich, buy my own beer, and perhaps even strike up an online conversation with a regular about his or her general interests. For all my nostalgia I will never change back from internet poker because it simply offers too much, no matter how much I might bore my friends or myself. Internet poker is to live poker as CD is to cassette tape – and the fact of the matter is: Who still buys tapes?