REST and fluids, said the doctor. The problem with convalescing after a major illness is that however you look at the ceiling it’s still white. OK it’s got knobbly bits where the paint wasn’t applied evenly and a few splattered remains of last year’s mosquitoes, but it’s white. White on white: monotony on monotony. I needed something mindless to pass the hours. Didn’t have the concentration to read War and Peace, had listened to John Humphrey’s rants on Radio 4 and even watched some old John Wayne movie on TCM with a talking horse. I needed a project, something to absorb time while my body mended.
The joy of wi-fi is that you can be connected anywhere, even propped up on pillows drinking cranberry juice. I had long been a fan of Facebook, playing Scrabulous and a form of Boggle called Scramble, but the big boy on the block, the application with the most users had always scared me. Poker. Just the word conjured up destitution in one night, losing all your belongings on the turn of a card and being forced down the lonely lane of exile.
It’s the most popular card game in the world. They say the sandwich was invented in 1762 because the 4th Earl could not face being dragged away from the tables in a 24-hour spree and needed the first takeaway: meat between two lumps of bread. Addictive, glamorous, dangerous: just the game to pass the hours. I had never played, I hadn’t a clue, except, it seemed to need a cool nerve, the ability to raise one eyebrow and X-ray vision .
Sixty-five million Americans play poker every year, but no longer for money online, it’s illegal. Nevertheless, Texas Hold ’em dominates in homes, halls and on the internet, and winnings are still quoted in dollars. I found an old Stetson in the cupboard: if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.
They give you virtual chips on Facebook, and sit you at a virtual green baize table. Each table has ‘buy in’ amounts for the first two ‘blinds’. We were a motley crew, with little photographs of ourselves and, apart from me, everyone had star ratings. I was the rookie, there to be fleeced. Tariq from Turkey sent me over a virtual drink, vodka on the rocks. The first two cards were dealt, it was then I realised I had no idea what I was doing, I scrambled for the piece of paper I’d printed off Wikipedia which explained flushes and straights and full houses and sets. I folded and decided simply to watch and learn. A court case last year in the UK sought to define whether poker was a game of skill or chance in a decision affecting its gaming licence. The court decision was 50/50. Now this week, a psychologist in the States says he has definitely proved it is 30 per cent luck 70 per cent skill.
I asked my son what made a good poker player. He told me, “patience and controlled aggression”. Ah, like being a good parent, I quipped; he wasn’t amused. It seems pro players only ever play 15 per cent of their hands. Now, 24 hours later on the tables, I have been promoted to ‘poker pro’ and have just won a virtual gold Rolex. I reckon I’m ‘po-faced’ enough and ready for the big boys, just need to grow me some stubble, ride into town, find me a saloon and a fistful of dollars…
