32Red Poker Blog

For some reason, yesterday I felt an urge to make some poker resolutions for next year. As I thought about it, I realised that it’s very difficult for a poker player to make resolutions about anything that concerns results. Not only is it impossible for a poker player to judge their own talent, talent provides no guarantees anyway in a game where luck can so often reign.

If there can’t be these kind of resolutions, of course there are still plenty of hopes. These would very simply centre around trying to rise to the big occasion a little more, and improve on this year’s list of finishes at final tables which reads an anticlimatic 8th-8th-8th-5th.

If I can change that particular list of numbers, it might let me achieve my dreams, but what of these resolutions? I am going to make two, but they are not to do with winning races, stopping laying down sets or remembering not to gift my stack on a king high flop, but are all to do with what goes on around the game.

You see, I try to act friendly and show respect to everyone in every part of life, but in poker this becomes so much more important. It is because people might expect poker to be unpleasant and ego-driven that it makes me happy when, almost always, it is quite the opposite of this. Looking back to my nerves three years ago on first entering the ‘live’ poker scene, I never would have expected this high-pressured game to be played in such a fun and respectful atmosphere that it is. It is great news, but no coincidence, that the man still rated as the best tournament player in England is also the nicest guy and truest gent. Julian Thew would be a credit to any walk of life, but the fact that it is this game of poker that is graced by his friendliness and humility is a wonderful thing.

So, how about this resolution? Well, I try to be pleasant at the table, but it is something that is lacking that I need to work on. When I get knocked out of a poker tournament, I rarely manage to croak more than a quiet “good luck guys” through my disappointment. You would have thought with all the practice I get, I could take losing a little better.

 It always is a tough scenario to react to, as elimination is sometimes cruel and so often sudden and unexpected, but that is why a built-in resolution will help. So, resolution number one is simply to shake the hand of my eliminator as I leave the tables. There might be some good karma to it, but principally the recovery process will be quickened by this friendly acknowledgement that it is just a game.

My only other resolution has to do with the practice of swapping a little percentage with fellow players. It’s a great thing in principle; to trade 5% of “yourself” with a couple of other players is a friendly gesture, and can add some excitement towards the end of a tournament after you yourself have busted. I’ve happily swapped percentages a few times.

However, my only feeling against it is that it involves money, and anything that involves money can bring out the worst in people. The point I realised I couldn’t be bothered with this came after my London result. Another player spent the aftermath not sharing my delight and relief at ending a barren run of form, but lamenting the fact that he hadn’t swapped 5% with me. A guy I didn’t even know then went to the trouble of calculating exactly how much I could have won if I hadn’t halved my offer from Pab, the eventual winner. (To fill in the story, Pab offered to swap 10% as we reached the final table; part of me wanted to set up the friendly offer, and part of me was edging towards this resolution, so I suggested 5% instead).

This joker forgot to factor two things into his calculations. Firstly, I literally couldn’t care less, and secondly I hadn’t had to halve my happiness that a good friend had emerged the deserving winner. What he hadn’t realised is this: the great disguise of poker is that it really isn’t anything to do with money. It is much more about the fun and excitement of the game, and about the great challenge of keeping your nerve and outwitting your opponent.

 Pab’s offer to me was just as generous as a lumberjack going out chopping with his midget friend, and offering to share their wood at the end of the day. For midget me, however, poker has everything to do with the challenge of trying to chop my own bit of wood. It has nothing to do with wondering how hot my fire could be with the wood of my lumberjack friend.

So, poker for 2009 is simple: shake more hands, share less wood, and just maybe fell a tree of my own.