Hand History - Part 1

Just watched BBC4's On Expenses, a one-off drama focusing on the fall of Michael Martin (Speaker of the House of Commons) and Heather Brooke, the author of Your Right to Know.

It had the feel of a period drama except, erm, it all happened within the last year or two. Indeed, the scandal is still not resolved! Beautifully done, though a slightly longer show ('twas an hour) might have been better suited to the gravity of the scandal. According to Wikipedia the 2005-10 Parliament is already being historicized as 'The Rotten Parliament'.

But I'm not going to talk about politics tonight, although I had been thinking about it. You know, some general opinions I have on the state of democracy and the upcoming elections. The usual sort really: empty, armchair punditry that wouldn't hold up for a second in a debating chamber or, for that matter, on the street. But I'll save that for another time when I'm feeling more prosaic.

Instead I will talk about something completely different: poker.

And it is completely different, by the way. If anyone ever tries to compare a poker game to high stakes politics, they clearly don't understand either of them.

ANYWAY

I shall now discuss my poker life, from its start right up until its present.

I should warn you know that it is pretty long. I don't abridge my stories for anyone.

When I was six (!) we had this little Video Poker game on our computer. It's not as exciting as it sounds.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_poker

As this wikipedia article attests to, it's basically just an advanced sort of slot machine.

It did give me a fairly good idea of hand rankings from an early age, though.

Later in my childhood, around aged 11 or 12, I was fascinated with the subject of gambling. We had a large, illustrated hardback book on Casino Games. The games which interested me most were the poker variants. It mainly focused on Stud and Draw (the book was from the 90's) but also had a little bit on No Limit Hold'em. I remember my juvenile, untrained poker brain thinking that NLHE was completly stupid game. I'd never played it, of course, but it stood to reason that only having two downcards and five community cards was just chaotic. And to make matters worse, it was played with no limits on the betting!

Around this time I also had a computer game which allowed me to play 7 card stud against computerised opponents. I usually won, but it wasn't much of a challenge. It wasn't meant to be a challenge.

It wasn't until December 2004 that I started playing poker against friends. I won against three of my friends, outchipping second place, Jose, by a margain of just one: 106 chips to 105. It wasn't for money, though. I would have had reservations about gambling 106 pence, let alone 106 pounds!

N.B. we were playing 5 Card draw with caps on the betting - not NLHE!

For the next sixteen months or so we would occasionally convene for a poker game. But it was never the express purpose of the meeting. We might just be hanging around and decide to play poker. Often the main feature would be the drinks and ensuing conversation, rather than the cards. Worse, sometimes people would bring a girlfriend along and constantly show them their (poker) hand. Inbetween embraces, of course. On one evening, where two couples were present, we only managed to get seven hands dealt over the space of an hour.

It wasn't until April 2006 that one Mr. Edge of Ryle House brought in some poker chips after the end of the Easter Holidays. Well, to be fair, on the first day he had not brought in any chips: only a deck of cards. We played with imaginary chipstacks of 'subjective' value. By Tuesday (the second day) we had chips. By Wednesday, we were playing for money.

Not for serious money, obviously. 20p buyins were the usual stake, sometimes more, seldom less. I do think I once lost my bus fare in a poker match, but that's ok. It was spring after all, and the walk home did me good.

We didn't have a 'table'. We played in our study which, despite the name, was not a place particularly condusive to learning or working. Instead, our 'poker table' was a chair. We sat around it, some on the sofa, some on other chairs.

The format was always a freezeout. We started the bets at 1-2, and increased them if we had to. The chipstacks themselves were often only between 20 and 30. The tournaments were short and were a excellent way to wile away the hours which might otherwise have been wasted on revising or playing sport.

Our first serious game was on the 19th of May. As was the annual tradition, we had a House Dinner that night. We decided we should hold a poker tournament beforehand.

Let me set the scene: It was a mild evening, the sun still up as we set out the chips in and old geography classroom. We didn't want the sun, however, to intrude on our game. Jason, who had a reputation for being a lucky player (unsurprisingly, I had a reputation for being tight) suggested that we pull down the blinds (on the windows) because in real casinos, you're not meant to know whether it's light or dark outside. (I can attest from my later experiences that this is indeed the case.) Eleven people had entered the tournament. Felts were lain out, extra chips were brought in for the occasion. Stacks were distributed, around sixty chips each. We didn't bother having different colour denominatons - each chip was simply worth '1', a simple system which we all agreed with, although it didn't allow for very deep stacks. Still, for the beginning player thirty big blinds seems like a veritable treasure trove.

It did to me, anyway. Not that it lasted very long, anyway. I was the third person out. 9th out of 11. Basically, I got over excited with top pair with a marginial kicker in a pot where there had already been two much action. I was called by Jason of all people. I can't remember whether the had two pair of a flush of what, but as soon as the cards were turned over it was clear that I was crushed.

I felt that awful sort of 'uuurgh, why did I do that' feeling. I never tend to get too frustated about getting unlucky. There's nothing you can do about a run or instance of bad luck. But when get knocked out as a result of making a bad play, there's no excuse. There's nothing you can legitimately back yourself up with. It's your fault. Worst of all, it's very lonely. Once you're out, you're out. Not only have you lost your buy in, but you've also lost your seat and your evening's entertainment. All at once!

The buy in was £5, which was by some distance the highest amount we had ever played for. It didn't represent a particularly large segment of personal wealth for any of us; bear in mind I probably spent around £15-20 a week in the context of school (i.e. bus fares, snacks).

I think top prize was £40, second prize was £10 and 3rd prize got their money back. I was around for the final four, who I vaguely recall as being Ben, our Head of House, Rikesh, Jason and a tutor, whose name I shall not mention. Rikesh was knocked out after slowplaying his flopped set of fours only to run in to the rivered higher set of the tutor. I remember thinking 'wow, [the tutor] played that really well!'.

Ben came third, getting his money back. Jason came second and our tutor won it all. He was a good sport, though, and when we went down to Kemptown for drinks, he bought us all a round.

This all took place on the night before my eighteenth birthday, a sort of affirmation, a rite of passage. I had gambled and lost, and I was now entering the age at which that was accepted as one of the many rights and responsibilities that charectarise the ascent into adulthood.

And so that is how I, one Sebastian Evans, came into the poker world. But, as you may have guessed from the 'Part 1' in the title, it was only the beginning.