Is Greg's game a "home game" or just another casino experience?

[shipitfish]

nick_marden made a post about last night's game at Greg's, which we both attended. In addition to the standard post-mortem hand analyses, Nick made some interesting comments that were also the central topics that he and I discussed for about half an hour before I got out of the car when he dropped me off after the game. (I just woke up a little while ago, as I am not as resilient as Nick with no sleep, and he dropped me off at 05:00).

I thought a lot about those topics last night after I got back and since I woke up, and I have a lot I'd like to say about it.

I should start with a description of my expectations of Greg's game, which may very well be unreasonable expectations, and thus are the cause my angst (that I think Nick is feeling too) about the situation. I don't go to Greg's game for the same reasons I play online poker or go to casinos. I go to Greg's to meet interesting locals who have the same interest that I do. It's about socializing; after all, what else would home games be about? Is a home game actually just a convenient way to take people's money right in your own hometown?

Nick and I have both been regulars at Greg's game since the IPO (the tongue-in-cheek way I describe the first time Greg invited the public via homepokergames.com), although Nick took a hiatus when his non-poker life got busy. I have met my three best friends in the poker world through that game (Nick and Shabbir at the game, and Katie, who Shabbir introduced me to). I really see it somewhat as a social club, but sometimes I think (a) I might be the only person viewing it that way and (b) that I am socializing with people who would rather I just didn't socialize with them.

The thoughts on this matter start with Jon, who is a fussy fish that believes deeply in luck and gets upset at the strangest things. Last night, Nick and I were discussing what the most statistically unfavored hand against AA is preflop in Hold'em. Another person chimed into the discussion, and we narrowed the likely candidates down to A6o and A9o (as it turns out, A9o, with the suit of the 9 matching one of your opponents aces, appears to be the worst). Nick was checking his email on Greg's laptop, so I asked Nick to run the numbers with pokersource. Jon freaked out, saying: "Get that laptop away from the table." Nick tried to explain that he wasn't going to use it during a hand, and he was just going to check something about a hypothetical situation. Jon got more angry, and finally Nick gave up.

Now, there were a dozen things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell Jon to stop being stupid. I wanted to ask what he has against a little intellectual discussion about poker when players aren't actively in hands. But I didn't. I didn't because there wasn't a point, because I know what likely bothers Jon is that he's a horrible player and feels threatened by the fact that we're all better players than he. Also, I have this churning feeling in my gut that I don't want to piss off Jon because he's one of the few people in the game I know I'm a favorite to.

But that's just a silly way to think. Why should I be so afraid to lose a fish in a home game like this? When did my edge become more important in this game to having fun with some people who enjoy the finer points of poker?

I suppose that early event tempered the way I viewed the rest of the night. I looked around the table and started to think -- really think hard -- about why various people were there. I watched Josh and Frank, two players whom I respect and who are usually polite, trash-talk about how bad everyone else was playing. How conceited and self-absorbed do you have to be to sit and whisper to you neighbor about how you "know" what some player, whom you see as stupid and predictable, is going to do next? (Of course, I am keenly aware because it was mostly Nick and me that they were talking about this way). Neither Nick nor I are total fish and they know it. I know what they are talking about and I understand their criticisms; I would even appreciate and welcome their criticisms if they were presented in a reasonable way. I believe that they are both better players than Nick and I, but why not tell someone to their face that they suck, or -- if your edge is so important to you -- keep your damn mouth shut and make use of what you see? When did a poker table become a middle-school play-ground? Are they going to start passing notes that say: "Bradley and Nick are sooo stupid! Write back if you agree."?

I truly had a hard time looking around that table and feeling like there was any sense of community or even shared enthusiasm about the game. At one point, I mentioned I was willing to stay and re-buy if the game was going to run for a while longer and Frank said with true surprise: "You really love poker, don't you?" I quickly responded: "Of course, why else would one play?", and this answer seemed to baffle him. Have we reached a time in poker when people are so obsessed with the easy money that they don't think about why it is worth playing otherwise? Does everything you say to a poker player or they say to you have to be part of the psychological warfare? Somehow, I am comfortable with this arrangement at a casino or online, but is this what home games should be?

My ideal of what a home game (or home casino, if that's what Greg's place has become) is what Anthony Holden describes in Big Deal. He describes the "Tuesday game" (in London, I suppose) where he and Alvarez are regulars. These are a group of serious amateurs who get together to share there real love for the game, and to play their best and enjoy each other's company. There are times at Greg's when I felt that, but it just doesn't seem that way most of the time. I feel deeply sometimes that most of them are there to grind it out and make cash. It seems that everyone could care less to get to know people, make friends and share a love for friendly competition.

Yes, I've read Sklansky. Yes, I'm primarily an positive-EV-focused player. No, I'm not going to play hands because I "feel it coming" or because I'm bored with folding or because I crave action. I want to play my best game, and there are times when I want to improve my game by playing against opponents who are smart students of the game and have something to teach and learn. Poker is a hobby to me, and as such, I'd like to meet others thought that shared interest and build friendships.

So, why play against such people if they don't seem to be there for those reasons? If their goal is to get an edge against me, and on top of that they're going to chastise me or make fun of me for every conversation I start (as happened to Nick and me with no less than three different conversations we started last night), why bother? Are people totally focused on trying to take other's money ever really going to be your friends? Is the whole poker world, even the recreational world, just about "edge" and never about building friendships? If that's true, how do you explain Negreanu and Harman, or Brunson and Cloutier? Somehow, I refuse to believe that the poker world is no more than an Ayn Rand wet dream, but maybe it is just that shallow. As Nick said as I got out of his car last night: "maybe it's time for us to find a new regular home game". Is any other home game going to be that different, though?

I should probably spend some time on the non-meta-issues and talk about the hands I played badly at Greg's game last night. I might do that later today.

Comments

Become Still

[roryk.livejournal.com]

The reason why all of this crap bothers you is because you let yourself get caught up in it. You sit there at the table, wanting it to be a social experience, and you get involved in all of the mind games and the needling and the comments and discussion of the hands and who is better than who and all of the stuff. Those guys are trying to get an edge on you by talking and chastizing you and all of that because you let yourself be drawn into it.

I have not played no-limit with you, but I have seen you do the talking-to-get an edge thing at the limit game. Chatting up some of the weaker players and so on.

It becomes much more enjoyable and peaceful to play if you think about things not in terms of EV. For instance, worrying about upsetting Jon because he is a fish and might leave the game. You are partly there. Forget EV-- just worry about upsetting Jon because Jon is a human and you should try to not upset anyone. If Jon doesn't want the laptop at the table, then simply respect his wishes and leave the laptop away. It does not have to be a problem. You and Nick should not discuss how a hand was played afterwards not because it is -EV to give information away, but because it is not polite. You should not rub salt into the wounds of others not because it is -EV, but because it is nasty to do that.

To play poker properly your goal is to make correct decisions. If you clear your mind of all of this distracting stuff you will make better decisions. If you try to make yourself impervious to all of this you will play better.

If you will notice, when I play almost nobody even talks to me. Sometimes people will talk at me. Or talk about me. But very rarely does someone try to fuck with me. Partly because I treat everybody at the game with respect and they do the same to me and partly because there is no point in trying to needle me, I am just going to sit there. If my skin is thin that day, I just go home. Either way, it is useless.

Re: Become Still

[shipitfish.livejournal.com]

Rory, I appreciate your comments. I think the ultimate problem I have in Greg's game is not whether or not I'm thinking about EV. It's that specifically I am looking for something else from a home game experience than most people are. I get the feeling that many people treat a home game as a "chance to make money from fish in your own hometown". I have never felt home games should be that; I feel they should either be purely social events, or, if they are "serious poker," it should be an opportunity to play with good players and learn from each other (ala Holden's Tuesday Game). I have often treated Greg's game as a latter, but I may be deluding myself that it could be that.

The whole point is I don't think about home games solely in terms of making the correct poker decisions. I realize that I give up some of my edge by trying to make home games an enjoyable social experience, and am willing to give that up for the social experience. I believe Nick feels the same way about home games, too. However, if everyone else in the game is looking for an edge, and is using the social aspects we're bringing to the game as an opportunity for edge, then the whole social experience is at least, in part, defeated.

As a side note, I tried once to get a in-person poker discussion group going, and offered to host it and invited a few people, and no one was really interested. I thought that might be a better way to bring a social side to poker (i.e., don't play while trying to socialize).

Perhaps the fundamental mistake I'm making is believing that there can be a fun social side to poker. Perhaps it's naive to think that when money is involved, people will treat the game as anything but dog-eat-dog. As I said, sitting a casino, all the psychological manipulation that bugs me at Greg's, I can totally transcend. But at Greg's, I want it to be as much a social club as it is a poker game.