How Do You Play The Game?
Recently, I made a
couple of blunders that I wish I had not made. In dealing with them, I could
have ignored them; pretending that they didn’t happen and hoping that they would
go away, or, I could take responsibility. Being an adult, I pleaded a momentary
lapse of reasoning. Seriously, it is all about taking responsibility, without
excuses and that is very hard on the ego. (My wife wants to know what I did. Did
I lose all the money at the casino?) It is nothing like that, or even close,
it is all benign stuff. My purpose is for the reader to recall an “oops” in
their life to relate to.
All that I really
had to do was to think it through before I went forward with what became an
embarrassing experience. It was only obvious, after the fact, that what I had
done was to follow an ill-advised plan. I was not aware, beyond my impulsivity,
of any consequences of my actions. Afterwards, it was too late. No “oops
button”, to push for a reset.
When it comes to
gaming, there is no other way to enter that particular reality, than to enter
aware and responsible. There can be a thousand excuses why you lose and one
reason why you win. You can pretend any story that fits what you want to believe
or you can move forward with your evolution, taking responsibility for your
actions.
There are many
resources for gaming, books, articles, authors, teachers and workshops promoting
ways of improving the player’s game. Sometimes I wonder that it is just so much
dribble, including my own stuff. Really, is the game all that complicated? Does
a person need all the stuff out there to enjoy a game? No!
So why go through
all of this? Why promote a better way? It is a learning process for me. The
search is as fun as is the trill of playing the game. Through self-examination
of my thoughts and experiences I intend to come out the other end a better
person. It is not so much that I feel that I am clever, that I have it figured
out. I do believe that we journey together and find people who like to play at
the same “games”. (like-minded) Perhaps sharing what I have discovered may be of
benefit to others, but mostly it is a benefit to myself, as I acknowledge my
mistakes and assimilate what I have learned. It reminds me of a procedure I used
in my classroom with the kids. At the end of the day, I would have them spend
ten minutes writing down what they learned for the day. Repetition and
acknowledgement locks in the experience. When there is no one else to observe
you, observe yourself.
Playing cards and
dice is not all that complicated. It is enjoyable for some to make up a need to
find a solution for the puzzle. Sometimes I wonder does the enigma exist only
for the purpose of having an enigma? Overcoming the odds is just a slippery
tomato seed. Do we really need to find a way to pick it up? “Just don’t squeeze
so hard.” Ah, a strategy now to play the tomato seed game.
I know that I am a
better player because of how I have directed my actions to learn the game. I
know that my intention to figure it all out has provided me with many tools.
What I am coming to see is that where I am gaining the most knowledge is
recognizing mistakes, accepting mistakes, taking responsibly for those mistakes
and then moving on. Persevering over the loss of anything is to live in the
past. It engages negative emotion and it is a lower energy experience. Stuart
Wilde would say that to persevere over anything is a “tribal paradigm”.
Stopping myself
from engaging in a different story, as a guilty “little boy” who wants to write
a pretend tale to keep himself out of trouble, is the challenge. However, the
benefit is great when I do own up to the reality. The shift is huge when
stepping aside from negative emotion and taking responsibility. I am coming to
see that responsibility is not the critter I once thought it to be. It is not
something that I do for an effect outside of me. It is something that I do to
affect me on the inside.
After all the years
of playing and studying the game, I still lose. I know that it is not because I
have not figured out how to win. I know how to win. I know that it is because it is
still a part of how I play the game. How do you play the game?
Michael Vernon
Copyright © 2006
May 2, 2006
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On the Coat
Tales of a Gambler continues …
“Have you ever been to Florida?” Part Nine
It was early spring
in the South and I was living on my own and at the time. I moved from a buddy’s
place in Badger to Greenville. I had a small room over the Senate Lounge, with a
bathroom down the hall. It was fairly quiet, even for being over a bar. Most of
the customers were railroaders that would come in throughout the day, starting
at seven in the morning when the joint opened. Doobie usually shut the place
down about nine in the evening. Nothing went on at the Senate but for a little
dancing to honky-tonk jukebox music and one pool table on Saturday night. Doug
Wheeler ran a legitimate business. Everyone called him “Doobie”. I did odd jobs
around the bar in exchange for some of my rent.
Back in those days,
the only phone was the one down in the bar. Doobie would not allow any of the
tenants to have calls, limited messages only. Early one Wednesday morning, I
still remember it, Scarpone knocked on my door. I had just awakened and was not
fully dressed. I answered the door to Scarpone and the first thing he said to me
was, “Sailor, have you ever been to Tallahassee?” “What?” I said. “Florida!”
That was Scarpone’s blunt reply. Still trying to wake up, I said, “No, ah, Yes,
whadda you mean?” “Throw some water in your face, get dressed and meet me down
in the bar,” Scarpone ordered.
Doobie was just
opening up the bar. He already had a customer, a brakeman that worked on the
Missouri Southern line. This guy got to the bar even before Doobie most
mornings. Three shots of Seagram Seven and two hard-boiled eggs with oyster
crackers and he was off.
Scarpone waved me
over to a corner table. Two cups of coffee were already waiting. It was typical
of Scarpone to take care of the small things that could add up. I was ready for
that cup of Joe. Simple as a cup of coffee was, it made me feel all the more
special. That and the fact that Scarpone wanted to see me about something.
Scarpone had a game
set up in Tallahassee, Florida, and he wanted me to be involved in the deal. He
trusted me. Of all the guys that he ran with, he trusted me the most. The game
was an invitation to play poker at a fancy private club, a ways out from the
city. It was a “men’s only” club, with a golf course, tennis courts, a spa,
restaurant, bar and, of course, bocce. Scarpone wanted to run a scam. He knew a
couple of the players and the others guys were in the same league, including a
retired politician… congressman or something. Not so much that they were high
rollers, they had money and could gamble large. Anyway, Scarpone was going to
give me 10g to play in the poker game. This was going to be a high stakes game.
For my part, I was to lose early to the club members then excuse myself when I
got down about 6g or so. Then I would drive back to the motel and wait for
Scarpone to call me to come pick him up. This was after, of course, he had
skinned all those fat cats.
I was the chum bait
in the water to make it look like the two “fellers” from Alabama were easy
pickings. The club members would get to drinking, get loose with their play,
then Scarpone would clean their clocks. “Got any church clothes?” Scarpone asked
me. “These guys are rich SOB’s and we gotta look rich too!” Well, I didn’t go to
church much back then unless somebody died or got married. Next thing I know,
Scarpone is telling me that we are going to Montgomery to get me a suit.
Scarpone always
dressed nice. He was never without a jacket. I think it was partly for all the
pockets, because in one of them pockets he kept that “38”. Scarpone always got
his suits at Harry Stein’s, a men’s store in downtown Montgomery. A couple of
days later we headed to Montgomery for my new suit…. I did not know at the time
that it would end up being part of my cut. It was a nice suit. I still have the
jacket. Anyway, we met Harry. Harry and Scarpone picked out my suit. It was a
real nice grey and pinstriped suit. Harry measured me and fitted the suit. Then
he asked Scarpone when he wanted to pick it up. “Next Friday!” replied Scarpone.
As it turned out, it was better to drive north from Greenville to Montgomery and
then back south to Tallahassee anyway.
The following
Friday, we headed out for Tallahassee by way of Montgomery. Harry had my suit
ready. I looked sharp as a tack in pinstripes. Scarpone covered all the
expenses. We started off with a big breakfast early in the morning. He had
sandwiches and a couple thermoses of coffee for the road. He wanted to arrive in
Tallahassee the night before the game. Scarpone did not like being rushed. Once
in a game he pulled his pistol on a guy who was harassing him for taking time
making a decision over a raise. Scarpone flew into a rage. After he calmed down
he
put the gun back into his jacket. Composed, he then re-raised that pushy fellow.
Well, this guy figures that Scarpone is all bluff and bullshit with that act,
and he goes all in on him. Scarpone was sitting on a nut flush against this
guy’s wheel. After the river card, the pushy guy started up again with his
mouth. Scarpone only had to move his hand up toward the opening in his jacket to
shut him up. The wise guy got up quietly, and left busted.
When we got to
Tallahassee, we checked into a motel, freshened up and had an early super.
Afterwards, we went to a strip joint for a few drinks and then hit the sack. The
game was scheduled for three o’clock in the afternoon at the clubhouse. Scarpone
wanted to be rested and he wanted to make sure that we were both clear on how
the “take down” was going to play. I must say, I was not nervous in the least
bit. All I had to do was play poker, my favorite pastime, and lose Scarpone’s
money. I was more uncomfortable wearing the new suit Scarpone bought for me.
We drove out to the
clubhouse. Scarpone had just bought a new Lincoln. It really helped with our
cover. The place was piss elegant. I started to get nervous. Scarpone passed me
a hip flask of Jack Daniels and ordered me to take a slug. “At least you’ll
smell like a gambler after that”, chuckled Scarpone.
I will never forget
meeting the other players. White was in. Everyone, except for Scarpone and me,
was wearing white. They were wearing white everything, or so it seemed. Scarpone
and me were in black and pinstriped gray. Were we ever out of place!
Eight of us played
the game, including me and Scarpone. At first, the game did not go well. Instead
of losing, I could not do anything but win. Those guys were too tight and my
betting out, even on cold hands, ran’em off. They were too timid for strong play
and they folded every time. I could see that Scarpone was getting pissed. I
could not turn it off. I kept pulling hands. Of all times to be in the damn,
“hot seat”!
After the second
hour, the boys in white finally started to loosen up and hang with me.
Eventually I got to losing and they became more relaxed about playing. In the
end, it took about four hours before I hit that place in the bankroll where
Scarpone told me to exit and not to lose any more. I said good night and drove
back to the motel to wait for Scarpone’s call. The men in white, gave me that,
“better luck next time”, routine while saying, “sucker” through their smiling
teeth. It didn’t bother me, because I knew what was coming. I just acted humble,
smiled back, and then left. I lost about six-and-a-half grand. When I picked
Scarpone up, he had won just shy of 58g to the good. Not a bad turnaround!
Scarpone called the
motel about 1:00 am. The night clerk came to the room to let me know that
Scarpone was ready for me to pick him up. I gave him a “fiver”, as promised, for
delivering the message. On the way back from the club, Scarpone filled me in
about the details.
He did not tell me
at the time, but Scarpone knew these guys played regularly and usually ended
their game by one or two in the morning. It was a tricky play all the way
‘round. First, I had to lose, in order to soften them up. You know how it is,
getting ahead and then losing. The feeling is, “What the hell, I’m just losing
money I won”. That was Scarpone’s plan all along, to get them into accepting
losing and then take them for as much as he could, comfortably, without them
noticing. As it turned out, it was about ten grand each, though one guy got done
in for about sixteen of it.
So, Scarpone played
this group like a violin. After I lost, he had to gradually start pulling the
game his way. Knowing that he had six to seven hours to win back the money I
lost, plus as much from the other guys, he had to work fairly quick without
causing them pain. He told me how he pulled it off.
Mostly he won small
pots, and kept his losses small. Waiting for the “nuts”, he set the trap,
pretending to be playing a weak hand. Then he banged them going over the top
with a big raise. They followed like sheep, in Scarpone’s words. He hit’em twice
near the end of the game and they never felt a thing. He said they actually
seemed relieved when he asked if he could use the phone to call for his ride.
Scarpone instructed
me to check out of the motel before leaving to pick him up. We were not about to
hang around Tallahassee any longer than we needed to. As we were leaving the
club, he told me to head west on the interstate until I found a good motel.
“We’ll sleep in for a day and then head over to Pensacola and get some girls to
celebrate”, he told me. “Let’s take the long way home.” My cut was 3%, less the
cost of the suit.
On the Coat
Tales of a Gambler continues, …”How I lost my marbles…”in the next issue of
Playing 4 Keeps™
