When I work with a new student, one of the first questions I ask is, "What is your main goal in poker?" The three most common answers I get, in order, are: 1) To be famous 2) To be the best in the world and 3) To make a lot of money. My own goal is much more modest – When my health/circumstances/death force me to stop playing, I want to be ahead of the game. <READMORE>
30ish years ago, when I was desperately trying to grind out about $50 a night playing 1-5 spread limit stud in Gardenia, CA, an old man took pity on me. We had played together in that 1-5 game a few times, and we were among the few to usually cash out rather than bust out. One day, he asked me if I had eaten, and we sat together in the coffee shop at the Normandie Casino.

Over some good, cheap food, he talked and I listened. He told me of days gone by and games that were played in fear of both the police and the crooks. He told me of the poker players’ joy at the opening of “legal” card clubs in Los Angeles and how he moved his family nearby right away. He told me stories of a lifetime of playing poker.

After my second piece of pie, I finally stopped eating and asked him why, after playing for so many years, was he still grinding out a few dollars a night at low limit stud? I still remember how he looked at me after I asked him that question. It was almost like I was being judged by his eyes. After a rather uncomfortable silence, he pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded his head once as if giving me the OK.

“I’ve known and played with them all,” he began. “Texas Dolly, The Grand Old Man, Amarillo Slim and a hundred guys nobody’s ever heard of. And they’ve all been broke more times than you imagine. Of all the guys I’ve known, only one other guy besides me never been broke at all. I don’t rightly know ‘bout that other fellow, but my secret is that I never got too big for my britches.”

I had eaten quite a bit of food, and he had had only some eggs and a cup of coffee, so I grabbed the check, but he waved me off and told me that he invited me and this was on him as he continued, “Most fellas are dreamers. They dream big dreams of big cars and big houses, and when they fall, it’s a big fall. Me, I have always been content with what I have. I drove a truck my whole life to support my wife and kids, and we always had food on the table and a roof over our heads. In all my years playin poker and more than ten books full of ledgers, I am happy just to be ahead of the game.”

Over the next five years before he died, he and I shared many meals, conversations, and poker games together, and he repeated himself on more than one occasion. As I grew to know him, I realized that he was indeed a happy and contented man, and I gave his words more weight than those of many players I had similar conversations with. And of course, the one sentence that really stuck with me was the one he repeated most often, “I’m happy just to be ahead of the game.”

I have since gone on to have a fairly long poker “career” of my own. I am content to look over my own ledger and see that, as of now, I am ahead of the game. Every year, at the end of the year, I tally up the pluses and minuses and I admit that I am very proud that I have never had a losing year.

Most years, I have been ahead only a little, including some as little as a few hundred dollars. Only two years have I posted five figure gains. I am also not ashamed to admit that once in a while, I have taken a few “shots” with some of my winnings. So far, I have played in a few WSOP’s and other major events, and I have lost over 10k on one bad beat hand where my flopped set of aces lost to a rivered inside straight. But each time I tried, it was with the understanding that the “shot” was a once-in-a-while thing that would only be done with profits.

I have won a “major” online tourney and placed third in two others and won over 10k a few other times online, and I have found something interesting. The first time I won that much, I was too excited to describe. The next time, and each subsequent time, it has gotten more and more commonplace. This is one reason why some players keep trying to move up to higher and higher levels, to keep up that “thrill.” Now, I only play a major once a month or when I satellite in.

For the most part, I play low level tourneys, most of which fly under the rankings radar. I take perhaps too much pride in going deep in these huge field donkfests, and the few that I win provide me with enough ammo to keep playing them for years and years. I also pull out money now and then to buy my son a Lego Mindstorms kit and my wife a new pair of diamond earrings. Do I wish I could pull out enough to buy a new sportscar? Nah, the minivan runs just fine, tyvm.

The point of all this is that I have found my optimum level, and I am happy and comfortable here. I have almost zero chance of going broke, and the thrills I get from a win at a $5 tourney are just right for this old heart to bear. And, like my mentor before me, I’m just happy to be ahead of the game.
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