I just returned from a mini-vacation in LV after meeting up with Cal, Adam, BodogAri, and Tranquil Chaos.<SPAN> </SPAN>Ari instantly grasped craps in terms of pre-flop play and called for numbers that he did not want to hit in the same reverse-jinx of tournament play.<SPAN> </SPAN>I learned that, unlike poker, hitting the stick man in the chest with a chip does not draw a ten minute penalty.<SPAN> </SPAN>Tranquil Chaos got locked in an icy stare-down with Phil Ivey, but nobody was injured.<SPAN> </SPAN>Cal and Adam, who were wearing Pocket Fives headgear, smiled pleasantly when they were greeted by inebriated fans as “the guys from poker fives—alright!” In some unusual news, I succumbed to peer-pressure and was talked into playing the $330 tourney at the Wynn (despite my inexperience).

The tournament was filled with many unremarkable hands for me, and I tried to play solid poker while avoiding any terrible mistakes.<SPAN> </SPAN>I admit I found myself peeking at the television where, thankfully, women’s Olymic curling was in action.<SPAN> </SPAN>My neighbor at the table was from Nova Scotia and explained that curling is a big spectator sport north of Illinois, sort of like soccer without the riot police controlling the fans.<SPAN> </SPAN>Three minutes of curling is sufficient to understand why no riot police are needed.<SPAN> </SPAN>After a couple hours of unimaginative poker play by me, I made it to the final table in last place with a puny stack.<SPAN> </SPAN>I pushed AK in the big blind, got called once by a player with a striking resemblance to Colonel Sanders and again by a hooded player doing his best to imitate Phil Laak.<SPAN> </SPAN>The Colonel backed down and sweatshirt boy caught a ten on the river to send me walking.<SPAN> </SPAN>

Looking back, I wondered why I remember the experience as enjoyable.<SPAN> </SPAN>The entry fee was insignificant to me, and first place paid approximately $7,500--nothing to sneer at, but not life-changing money, either.<SPAN> </SPAN>I saw very few interesting hands leading up to the final table.<SPAN> </SPAN>What was it about the final table that outweighed all of that?<SPAN> </SPAN>The easy answer is you need to make the final table because that’s where the money is.<SPAN> </SPAN>But that’s just part of the answer.<SPAN> </SPAN>

Daniel Kahneman, a Nobel-prize winning psychologist and an otherwise smart cookie, has shown that our memories of pleasurable experiences are driven almost entirely by two things: (1) how the experience felt at the peak (good or bad) and (2) how the experience felt at the end.<SPAN> </SPAN>The proportion of pleasure to displeasure and the duration of the experience have almost no impact on your memory of it.<SPAN> </SPAN>That’s what the final table captured for me: my peak experience happened to occur near the end of the tournament.<SPAN> </SPAN>True, I felt less joy due to an unfortunate ten on the river, but I remember the overall experience as positive.<SPAN> </SPAN>Kahneman’s “peak-end” rule is another important reason why tournament players must reach final tables if they want to have warm memories of their tournament poker careers: it is the natural conclusion of the tournament, where your peak experience is likely to occur if you make it that far. Thanks to BodogAri, TranquilChaos, Adam, and Cal for providing good tips and rooting.