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

Re: my three points (first two)

[(Anonymous)]

well, i also agree that steven would probably have been better off not saying anything. but that's my policy in general. when luck hits somebody in the head in poker, i generally say nothing to the person. i even think the awkward "i'm sorry" isn't worth it. most of the time it sparks a "what are you sorry about? you won the pot!" rejoiner. then you're forced to say, "yeah.. well.. you're right. but.. i'm sorry anyway??"

when no comment is made, the game just keeps rollin on and the bad beat memories fade away.
perhaps one acceptible comment to make is just a more factual one, such as "wow, i got lucky."

and on a related note, i think it's kinda ironic how when the cards are coming down the person who is drawing (maybe looking to spike their lower pocket pair, for example) will call out for their few outs to hit. "give me a five. hit me. come on -- five!!" then, if they spike it, they'll say, "oh, i'm sorry man." but if they were really sorry, why would they root so hard to deliver a beat??

all this talk of beats reminds me of the TREMENDOUS beat that i laid on scott when i went all in with AQ from the big blind and he called with KK from the straddle. bradley had folded AQ and another dude folded an A. i spiked the one remaining A on the river. wow. that one really, truly, blew my mind.

p.s. neither my couch or the joystick pillow were harmed during these events.

Re: my three points (first two)

[shipitfish.livejournal.com]

Greg wrote:

perhaps one acceptable comment to make is just a more factual one, such as "wow, i got lucky."

I've been working on not saying "sorry". I agree with Greg; I believe that "sorry" doesn't make much sense in poker. I've actually been working hard to keep my comments during an all-in draw situation to a minimum; I used to say far too much. I noticed how rude it is when people say certain things to me, and have been working to say less so I don't accidentally say something rude to them. (Although Joe claims not to remember it, he once said to me: "Let me suck out on somebody" in such a situation, which I thought was one of the rudest things I'd heard, since it was so impersonal -- like I was playing him online and not physically present in the room. I exacerbated the situation by saying: "Thanks, Joe.", when he failed to catch. That was an a stupid anger response, but there was no point in answering rudeness with rudeness even when angry.

that one [bad beat] really, truly, blew my mind.

Well, a one outer doesn't come that often. I was terrified one was going to come that one time I was all in with top set against middle set for about $650 against that fellow named Cue. I wonder if I'd have handled that beat well; I like to think I would have, although I'm sure I would have had to leave for the night.