"We must believe in luck...

otherwise how can we explain the success of people we dislike?" - This quote is attributed to Jean Cocteau who, among other things, apparently wrote lots of poetry and spent lots of time running around with beautiful, talented people.

I wonder sometimes, while I'm sitting at the table trying to choose between another glass of red and spending time sober with the latest group of illiterates seated around me, what it would be like to be in the company of, say, Picasso or Edith Piaf. Apparently not enough to stave off an opium addiction, but I wander.

I will likely never be a great poker player. This failure to achieve greatness will primarily result from my preference for disliking people and blaming their luck for my lack of success. The reason so few are great at anything (and certainly why I will struggle to approach greatness in this game) is it is much more difficult (and more honest and profitable) to examine my weaknesses and fix them than it is to blame the good luck of others for my misfortune.

One of the reasons we love this game, I think, is the long term fairness of it. Yes, the random aspect convinces people who suck that they don't. But this also keeps them at the table long past the point they would have left if we were playing chess for $1,000 a game winner take all. But ultimately it is fair. Make good decisions and you do good. Make earth-shatteringly stupid choices and watch people you instinctively hate walk away with your rent money.

Which brings me to this past weekend...

I'm sitting late in the evening having dropped a buy-in and ground it back. This table is about to break and I have too often made the incorrect wine choice. In short, I should get up (after all, walking away is easy once you're up). But along comes one of my favourite people to dislike - the well off banker type who is giving poker a try while his date works the black jack tables. I hate bankers. Primarily this is pure bonus envy, but I try and justify it by telling myself how they are leeches. So this guy plays for a few hands, an orbit at most. Doesn't get out of line - obviously has some clue how the game is played but just as obviously has not played live very much at all. Then the following hand comes up.

It starts with his group (being two other obviously drunk banker types and three women who likely lust after bonuses in a different, but no less vigorous, manner to me) showing at the rail and banker saying "just one more hand". Banker is on the button and he's on my left which makes me the cut-off. I raise preflop with KQ suited and get four callers. Flop comes K86 rainbow and it is checked to me. I lead and only the banker calls. He gets some encouragement from one of the women. Turn is a six, pairing the board. I make a small bet and banker announces he is all-in in as dramatic a fashion as he can - like he has been practicing this line in front of the mirror for just this occasion. So I go to muck my cards as I generally don't call all-in bets from idiot-newbie-bankers who are impressing their dates.

In fact, if my hands were just slippery enough I would have mucked them. But then I start to think. He doesn't have a six. Does he? It is his last hand. He's trying to impress the woman with something other than his bonus. What could he have? a King or a draw. Well, if it's a random king, I'm probably good. If it's a draw, I'm definitely good. He could just have offered me two buy-ins (did I mention that bankers buy-in big?). Those two buy-ins would square me for the weekend and, most importantly, show the women who the true man is. Wow, he's really that stupid that he would make that move with a draw? When I fold, he's going to show it and then get up and then laugh at me with the woman all night long. I have to be ahead, no way he has a six.

Ok, I call.

Of course, it isn't a good sign when the dealer looks surprised with your call. It's worse when the banker has a six. And when he leaves with your buy-ins promising to buy Dom for the woman with my money it really should be time to stand up. I hate it when others get lucky.