The Poker Game

     The competition at the five paddleball courts at Carmine Street in Manhattan was always ferocious. No one wanted to lose and all of us fought like mad, argued like mad, disputed calls like mad, to avoid it. But when all was said and done, one team had gotten to 15 and one team hadn't. The winner got to stay on the court and play the next game. The losers shook or slapped the  hands of the victors, trudged off the court and had to wait for their next opportunity.

And wait. And wait. And, sometimes, wait some more.

The Carmine courts were not only fierce. They were crowded. Often we had to keep written lists of who was waiting for next. Those lists could extend to ten or more names. The waits, that is, were extensive.

Waiting, however, was not our strong point. We were competitive athletes, after all. We had to do something. Some went to the bocce courts  in a distant corner of the park. Others went to the softball field behind the courts  to kick a soccer ball around.  Many more went to nearby stores to buy food and drink.

Billy Abolafia did none of those things.

Billy was a strong, powerful young man with long, flowing hair and a charismatic air about him. People were drawn to him. He was a good player but that didn't seem like his main strength. Billy was a gambler.

When Billy brought a deck of cards to the cement tables and benches a few feet behind the courts, people suddenly knew what we'd do to pass our waiting time: We'd play poker!

The game was quarter/half. A quarter to open, 50 cents if there was a pair showing. Not a cheap game for the late 1980s, but not so expensive that anyone could be badly hurt. "Hey, what if, on the last card, the bet can be a dollar?" Billy suggested. And so, on the 7th card of our stud game, the stakes went up. With 3 raises allowed, that final turn could cost $4. Hmmm. Getting interesting!

With bills now flying around and getting blown in the wind, the game was now TOO INTERESTING to stay on the outside of the court. We began playing in the apartment Billy shared with his girlfriend on the far West Side. And the games, of course, were no longer filling the dead space between times on the court. Now they were going on for hours. Sometimes all night.

Things were getting serious. We were, after all, serious competitors. The quarters and the half dollars disappeared. Now the game was one dollar/two dollars. A five or ten dollar bet was allowed on the final card. Pretty sure Billy made that suggestion. With three raises allowed, that added up...to serious money!

The game we most liked to play was kind of silly, however: Baseball. Threes and nines were wild. A four would get you another card. With all those wild cards it was hard to figure out what was a good hand.

Happily, I figured it out.

After a night of not doing too well, I realized that you couldn't win the poker game of Baseball without at least 4 of a kind. And not just ANY  4 of a kind. It had to be high cards. Unless I had a shot at at least 4 jacks I'd drop out of the pot. Without at least 4 aces I'd bet conservatively, Billy was the best gambler at the table but now I had a clear view of the game.

Two things prevented the others from developing the same clarity.

All of our players came from Carmine. But not all were paddleball players from Carmine. Two were the drug dealers that sold weed and cocaine behind the court.

Now call me naive, but I didn't know that we had our own drug dealers. But we did. And you know, they were nice guys. And they made their products available for free at the poker game. And there was also plenty of beer. And most everyone partook.

But not me. I played sober. Not that it was difficult as I don't like beer, I've never gotten the hang of inhaling and coke just made me feel I'd gotten a numbing shot from the dentist. So half the table was high and I wasn't. BIG advantage.

And then Anita Maldonado joined us!

I love Anita. She's a really fun person. She livened up the game. Now the other thing about Anita is that of all the ferocious competitors in paddleball she is arguably the fiercest of us all. She hated to lose. And that's the attitude she brought to the poker game.

"You've got to be in it to win it," she'd say. It was her competitive philosophy. A GREAT one in athletic events where she would never accept defeat. A poor one in poker where, if you recognize likely defeat early, you can fold your cards and get out of the pot early enough to lose only a small amount. Stay to the bitter end, however, and you can turn a tiny loss into a big one.

And so MY philosophy at the game was play sober, play conservatively and only bet hard if I had a likely winning hand.

The drug dealers brought lots of cash with them and didn't seem to mind when they lost it. Probably the highest of anyone at the table they never seemed to quite figure out when they should be in a pot and when they should fold. "You've got to be in it to win it," I'd sometimes smile at them when they seemed confused at how they'd once again dropped a good bit of cash in a hand they didn't come close to winning.

Then in one game I was up against Anita. I held some wild cards so, feeling strong I bet aggressively. I was unprepared for the ferocity with which Anita pushed back with big raises of her own. I felt sure I had the best hand, but what did it mean that the woman champ was being so strong? Intimidated, I didn't raise her back.

"What have you got?" I asked when I'd called her final bet.

"A pair of aces," she answered.

"Aces," I replied, dumbfounded. "You just have a pair of aces?"

"Yes. What do you have?"

"I have four kings." Shaking my head, I gathered in all the chips. How in a game with all these wild cards, could she be even in the pot, let alone raising, with just a pair? And then, of course, I realized why:

"You've got to be in it to win it!"

And that's how, though I did not win all the time at Carmine, I won every night at Billy's house!

The drug dealers, of course, weren't doing so well. I got a phone call from one of them, Larry.

"Hey, Mike," he said. "I want to ask you something but I'm unsure if our friendship is close enough that it's okay to ask."

"What is it, Larry?"

"Well, I don't have money to buy any more product and I was wondering if you could lend me $1000 so I could. I'd pay you back in a week with $100 extra for your trouble."

"Larry, of course we're good enough friends for you to ask me. You can ask me for anything. But, unfortunately, I can't lend you $1000 for product."

I'd turned my back on the opportunity to get into the drug racket!

The game went on. Nothing changed but the stakes. Incredibly, we were now allowed to bet up to $100 on the last card...with the three raises that would mean as much as $400. None of us really had that kind of money. One night I won close to $1000 but went home with about $125 and a stack of IOUs. Everyone eventually paid up but it had gotten out of hand.

Then a player named Psycho Mike began coming to the game. When he learned that I was a psychotherapist he decided that the reason I was winning was because I was reading minds. When I learned that he was carrying a gun I decided that big money, cocaine, a weapon and paranoia was not a combination I wanted to be part of.

The Poker Game ended for me that night!