The Scared Money Never Wins

A couple of times lately I've played higher than I usually do, in the $11 dollar rebuy, a tournament that typically requires an buy-in of $31. It's not an imposing sum of money but it's more than I like to lose on a recreational semi-professional habit. I've beat the game before but not lately.

I'm sure it's true in other contexts, and I know it's true in sports: you are never going to play your best playing careful, playing not to lose. In any competitive endeavor you will always play best loose and confident and creative. The extra tension of "playing scared money" invariably leads to impatience, impulsiveness and failures of discipline. Old poker players like to say that "the scared money always leans the wrong way." Twice I should have folded. I made crucial mistakes, plunging in my chips when all the indicators pointed to folding my hand. And tonight I did it again, but it was only the two dollar game.

I've written before about the necessity of balance, and it's a crucial element to good decision making and a well-ordered life. When I get anxious and overeager I make more mistakes. It's too easy to lose objectivity or ignore the flow of things, to push ahead before it's time. I play best, and work best and live best, when I'm rested and aware and in control of my emotions and impulses, what Walt Whitman called "both in and out of the game watching and wondering at it." There's a creativity and flow to the best poker playing, a sensitivity, an awareness of the situation, an inner decisiveness. Right now I'm all out of whack, and my recent results show it. I'm a little frustrated with myself. I need to turn the tide.

Part of the problem is, I come home tired and out of sorts. Work has simply been awful lately. People are upset with their past due notices and suspensions or the garbageman leaving an extra bag. They are nasty and impatient and their nerves are frayed, and a calm, polite voice sticking to the script only makes them madder and more snarling and nasty. I am so very ill-suited for what I do for a living. I should have been a fifth-grade teacher, but I'm sure smart-aleck kids and meddling parents would have done me in by now anyway.

I did go to the gym tonight, so I really feel in shape. I benched and crunched and leg pressed and curled. I walked 60 minutes and stair stepped ten. My arms and legs have the delicious tightness, and I had a tall ice cream cone at the Jim Dandy drive-in and I don't feel guilty.

Next week I have 3 days of PTO, a paid mini-vacation, six days away from work. I need to adjust myself. Six good nights of sleep and a eight glasses of water every day, four workouts and five naps. It looks like Marie and I have found an apartment a few blocks from Austin's school--she turns in the papers tomorrow. By Saturday we could be sleeping together again in our own bed. It is a marvelous bed with two thick mattresses and a cozy down comforter, and on Sunday I want to serve pancakes in bed. With blueberries. We'll dress in our sweats and thick socks and invite Austin to join us and watch cartoons. And that will be the greatest day in history. Scared money never wins, but a happy reunited family wins every time.