That’s right, you heard me, I was EXCITED to be in Gary, Indiana. If that last sentence doesn’t get you believing in the power of poker, nothin’ will, man.

I just got sick of playing in the same games in the same apartments with the same friends, you know? If Doyle Brunson spent his life in basements risking $5 a tourney would anybody know his name? If Phil Hellmuth only played hands with a mouse and a keyboard do you think ESPN would be there to cover it? Sooner or later you have to find out how good you really are.

My friend J.J. is a poker dealer at the Meskwaki Casino in Tama, Iowa. I know, it’s not QUITE the MGM Grand, but it was impressive credentials to us. We’d been grilling him for the last few days about what we’d encounter in The Room - poker protocol, so to speak. How much do you tip the dealer? (It depends on the size of the hand you win, but you always give them something) Will we all end up at the same table? (Probably not, you just put your name in for whatever stakes game you’re planning on playing and they find you a seat when one opens up.) What game should we play? (You can’t really play Texas Hold ‘Em for the low, low stakes, so unless you feel like putting a few hundred bucks on the table there should be a $1-$5 Seven-Card Stud that’s up your alley.)

So Stud it is. Minimum bet is a buck; you can bump it all the way to five if you’re feeling frisky. This is the Poker equivalent of clipping your mittens to your jacket. Lucky for us, they just opened up a new table so we all get to sit together. This is good.

See, these are the guys I normally play with, so I know their styles pretty well. Jason plays tight, hardly ever bluffs – if he’s raising you, he probably has a hand. It’s tough to lure him into a big pot.

Chris, on my left, is the opposite – loose, wild. He’ll slow-play you, he’ll bluff you. He’s hard to read, but if you keep up with him, he’ll shoot himself in the foot sooner or later. I like playing with Chris.

J.J. is a dealer. He sees thousands of hands a week and is much better than any of us. He probably knows what I have. He makes me nervous.
I’ve got $50 worth of $1 whites and I’m ready to go. I know I can beat Chris and there’s a guy at the end of the table who I can already tell is garbage, so I know I’m not THE sucker of the bunch. Good feeling. The dealer just accidentally threw one of the cards off the table and my confidence is skyrocketing. Maybe this isn’t going to be as tough as I thought. The intimidation is wearing off. I know how to ante (whoever is dealt the lowest up card has to throw in a 50 cent piece) I know how much to tip. I’m set.

…Except I’m not winning a thing. Every piece of garbage in the deck is coming my way. I get into a hand fold right back out. You can’t push anyone around when the big bet is $5, so good hands can turn weak quickly. There’s a guy sitting two seats down with about $300 in ones who is calling every bet every hand. Why shouldn’t he? He’s got six times as many chips as I do. If you’re playing basketball against 10-year olds, you get your lay-ups when you can.

So I dwindle myself down to almost nothing and I’m just waiting for something decent to make a last stand. I get dealt a King and a Queen in the hole with a king showing. Good enough. I bet and I get a few calls.

I keep betting and with a few folds later, it’s just me and Big Stacks heads-up. Fifth Street gets me a matching Queen and I am happy to have her. He isn’t showing anything and the two-pair is looking good enough. He calls my bet because he’s Big Stacks and that’s what Big Stacks do. Sixth Street gets me zilch and I give myself a little peek at my King and my Queen. Ah, my King and Queen.

Oh dear.

I don’t have a queen. I never had a queen. I have a Jack. Man, am I a moron. I’m a mess. I’m on tilt. I bet out of habit, it gets called and I’m waiting to make my exit. Here comes Seventh Street and I get…A JACK! Huzzah! I have two pair after all! It’s not a great hand in stud, I know, but it’s a good hand and I had already prepared for the worst! Take that, Big Stacks! He calls my bet and I turn my cards and show my two pair. All aboard the comeback train!

…then he turns his and shows his straight. I didn’t see that coming. I feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach. I’ve never gone from so excited, to so panicked, to so relieved, to so nauseated in such a short amount of time. Jason pats me on the back. I’ll be in the bar.

In most casinos, they have what’s called a “Bad Beat Pot.” If you have an amazing hand (at least an ace-high full house or higher) and you end up losing, you get a share of this great big pot. Well, losing on two-pair isn’t going to win me any prizes. In the grand scheme of things, dumping $50 isn’t a gambler’s nightmare either, but it was a tough beat nonetheless and those are the ones you remember.

But I can’t complain. After all, I did make it out of Gary in one piece, and that may have been the biggest gamble of them all.

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