Poker Articles

“Puuurrrrrggghhh,” grunts a child in a 6th grade music class.  He sits on his knees, bending over at the waist almost to the point of bumping his head—which flares from side to side—on the carpeted floor.  When he has finished, he sits up again.  His teacher explains a series of melodic arrangements--a topic that is over the class’s head, for sure, and perhaps even his own.  Within a few moments, music plays in the background.  As the other kids give their new teacher a tough time, this particular child has his way in the classroom as well: still sitting a foot above everyone else, he plays air instruments—his choices for this song, respectively, are the harmonica and flute.  From the corner of his eye, he looks over to me at an interval of one minute or less.

The child is a 13-year-old autistic boy on full-inclusion, spending 80-90% of each day in a typical 6th grade classroom.  I am one of his therapists, or school “shadows,” that help to guide him through all the activities his peers experience each day at school with as few “prompts” as possible.  I was trained in Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA), and whether in a school setting or 1-on-1 session, I use this popular method of therapy to help autistic children similarly to the way Ivar Loovashad intended it.  ABA pairs words with objects/demands, and the children are rewarded with reinforcement—praise, play, food, etc.—when they correctly match a word with an object/demand.  It is being used to mainstream nearly half of autistic children into a kindergarten or first grade class.  Fast-forward two months, and my client’s behaviors, in this particular situation, can be seen to have drastically improved.

The intervals have remained the same: each minute, he looks to see my reaction to his behavior.  He knows the rules, but then again, he knew them in the scene described above as well.  But his behaviors have changed.  There is still the occasional invasion of a neighbor’s personal space. I might even see a few notes played on an air instrument.  Each is now followed by a sideways glance, however, and an immediate redirection of attention.  He sits with his legs crossed like his classmates.  The teacher speaks, and the child looks in his direction.  When the class sings, he sings with them, in an appropriate voice. 

These few demands, which seem so simple to follow, are so difficult for the child that he keeps his eyes focused on the ground in front of him, most likely to reduce sensory input.  He rocks back and forth at times, fighting the temptation to react to all the jumbled information that's crowding his mind and exciting his nervous system.  For each minute that he does what is asked, I checked a small box on a piece of paper.  The eighth check gives him a 5-7 minute break to draw, an activity he really enjoys.

Difficult as it may seem, this system of learning academics and social norms is applied to this child and many others 40 hours per week.  The dramatic change shown between the first scene and the second illustrates the effectiveness of ABA therapy.  As a therapist to autistic children of differing ages, cognitive abilities, behaviors, and sensory issues, however, I have learned that the child analyzes our behaviors in the same way we are trained to analyze theirs. 

Once I developed a plan to put into action, the child learned that reinforcement would come exactly when I said it would--after 8 minutes of attention, appropriate behavior, and participation. This enables him to put forth a tremendous amount of effort to meet demands being placed on him that, quite honestly, hold for him no distinct or worthy purpose.  He reads me like a book, and after endless hours of therapy with this population, I have learned that it is the child, not the therapist, who has all the control in the situation.  His analysis of my behavior allows him to realize what he can get away with, what he can’t, and how he can most easily get the reinforcement he needs during a long and arduous school day. 

Parallels to poker must seem obvious by now, yet trivial.  After all, are we not already aware of the importance reading our opponents’ tendencies and betting patterns?  Isn’t there even a stigma that seriously overemphasizes the importance of “reading people” and bluffing in poker? And isn’t it the development of math skills achieved through hours of multi-tabling that lies at the heart of the argument for the superiority of online players?  Of course. 

We tend to forget, however, that the competitive poker player’s experience is, in one respect, always the same.  I am privy to this fact for two reasons: I use analysis every day at work, and I frequent poker blogs (in addition to keeping my own).  Therein exists a cycle.  All players experience the cycle differently, according to differences in age, experience, outside factors, etc., but there is always a mixture of high and low patches of variance, with tilt, self-doubt, and frustration creeping in and out of the picture. 

Keeping one’s perspective sharp is, without question, the hardest thing to do in poker. When running well, the lesson is almost overly obvious.  Yet it never completely disappears.  It is within the nature of a variance-based game to question one’s own abilities, even for those who have played millions of hands over the course of years.  This is the reason the autistic child is so incredible; what encouragement and inspiration he provides!  The autistic child can learn to rely on his reads and confide in his/her therapists to navigate them through a world that makes little to no sense to them during their youth—-and for many, throughout their entire lives.

The new and ambitious player, whose dreams of playing high-stakes cash far outweigh his abilities right now, will experience the rush of frustration more than he or she would like.  I ask that amateur to imagine the frustration of a young autistic child, who may have difficulty sensing the world as it is around them, who may even find it painful to try, and who has not the cognitive development to understand how and why the sesensory experiences are different for him.

The most recent amateur to “take the plunge” will surely fight self-doubt and the cold grip of anxiety in the coming months.  I ask them to imagine relying on their reads for their well-being every day, with a near-constant anxiety exponentially greater than that they have ever felt, due to a scrambled nervous system. 

The professional may question his abilities during a negative rush of variance, or they may yearn for higher stakes.  I ask that professional to imagine living in a world where his or her well-being is fully reliant on the clear-headedness required to remember patterns and make clear and concise reads every day, not to get ahead in life, but merely to survive. 

And most importantly, I ask all three types of player to realize that you can face the challenges of poker at your own discretion.  These challenges are, for the autistic, a way of life.  I hope this helps you to appreciate the work-ethic these children exhibit each day, feel grateful that we are not held to the same standards, find inspiration in their success, and encouragement to enjoy the hardships of meeting our own goals.