Poker and Self Help Books- part two- Madison, WI

Author's note: Sorry it's been so long. Things have been pretty hectic. Nest egg finally cracked and I had to go back to work swinging a hammer until the book advance for "The Imaginings" (knock, knock, knock). Of course I'm still working on rewrites, but those should be done before the end of the year. Anyway, this is the second part of the Poker series (obviously) and runs about four pages. And one more thing, certain [facts] have been changed to protect the innocent.

Where was I?

Oh, yes. Madison, Wisconsin.

I was looking through my computer case with Jennifer a couple nights ago. I’m not sure exactly what we were looking for. Nothing earth-shattering, I imagine, but late on a Saturday night, (or late for me, actually. I had just worked my first day back to construction after doing a whole lotta’ nothing for the past three months. And a Saturday, even. Needless to say, I was in my pajama pants reading on the couch by eight. Anyway…) sitting in the living room with Jennifer after her own long day, we were in the midst of some interesting anecdote which led me to the computer case, I’ve no doubt. I believe it was about Jews for Jesus, one of the many pamphlets I was handed in New York City later on my summer adventure. I always take pamphlets. You never know what gems of information you might stumble on. Especially in Vegas. (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

But I was getting around to talking about Madison. I didn't even go to Las Vegas on this trip. And New York wasn’t for another couple weeks on my summer agenda. I was telling you about looking through my computer case. Along with the pamphlets and the pack of Lucky Strikes (for more information on these, read “Minneapolis, MN part two- Elsie’s Bowling Alley) I found many scraps of paper from along the journey. On a torn piece of newspaper from one of the local underground rags in Madison, I found this note to remind myself.

“The four ‘P’s’
-Parking Lot
-Prohibition
-Pig Pen
-Poker”

In part one of this segment I already explained my theory that if my cousin, Matt, had been around during the days of Prohibition, he would’ve owned a speak easy.

As to the Parking Lot, well, I scribbled the addendum “the Bat Cave.” You see, not only does my cousin own his own pool hall in Madison, one of the older billiards establishments (they even have actual billiards tables, sans pockets, a game of which Matt explained the rules, but I’ve since forgotten), but he also has his own parking space in what would appear to be just another warehouse-esque/possible building space next to the block where Cue-nique is located. (Follow that whole sentence? My God, I can’t believe Word let me get away with that one.). To get to his parking space, you go around the block, through a side parking lot, punch in a secret code, a bay door opens, up the ramp into an open level for discreet parking, complete with the surrounding square panel-sectioned warehouse style windows. We departed the batmobile and took the batpole to the ground level.

So there’s ‘Parking Lot.’ And the whole point of this section (there’s a point?) was Poker and Self-Help. Note that it’s not an either/or case.

I didn’t play Texas Hold-‘em (am I righting that write?) for anything more than a handful of nickels and dimes for seven years after that time in Missoula. But upon my arrival in Madison, Matt informed me that Cue-nique [wasn’t] hosting a game that evening. Twenty-five dollar buy-in. Nothing too major.

As far as I could tell, this game that [wasn’t] going on wasn’t exactly “legal,” but apparently previous employees of Cue-nique [weren’t] related to local cops, so nothing was going on. Plus, apparently of the fifty or so players that [wouldn’t] be there, many of the older players [hadn’t] been playing for “match sticks” for years already sitting at one of the shadowed booths or tables on the perimeter of the raised bar overlooking the poolroom floor, hosting at least fifteen pool tables to the best of my recollection. Which, by the way, was a little fuzzy for the few nights we spent at Cue-nique. Another perk of being related to the owner.

So I figured, what the hell? I had caught a few episodes of the World Series of Poker, had even played a game or so for small potatoes, like I said. It was still early on my trip. What was twenty-five bucks.

To make a long story short, turns out twenty-five bucks was about five minutes of play. I’ve learned better since (I’ll expand on this momentarily), but let’s just say that going “all-in” probably wasn’t the best idea on that first hand. As the first player out of the game, I spent the rest of my evening talking with Matt, drinking, and watching.

The players whittled down over the course of the next probably four hours until it was finally won by a regular to Cue-nique, affectionately known as Pig Pen. Relatively loud, a bit rotund, seemingly jovial, but apparently with occasional behavior contradicting normal social niceties, Pig Pen was an interesting study. While he took the eventual first place, I wondered at his tendency to show his cards even after everyone else had folded, an action that isn’t required in these circumstances and essentially lets your opponents know if they had been bluffed or not.

Regardless of all of this, had I made it past the first few cuts, I’m sure I still would’ve lost the big pot. What I’ve realized since is that this is true partially because I would’ve been afraid to lose. (Mostly it would’ve been lack of skill, of course, but I was looking for a way to quickly segue into my “Self-Help” portion of this segment. I should write damn books, I tell ya’. Hey, wait a minute…)

A couple weeks later, I played again in Maryland with family and a smaller buy-in, and took third. Then again a couple weeks ago here in Cedar City with some old friends from the college daze and walked away with a hundred bucks. Now I’m not saying how it’s much better to beat friends and family out of their money than it is a bunch of strangers in Madison (even though it sounds like it). What I’m saying is that I did better because I wasn’t afraid to lose. When it came to my friends and family, these were people whom I would’ve outright given money to had they asked, so I didn’t mind losing it to them after a good night of playing cards and catching up.

The key was, I wasn’t afraid of losing. (Okay, single reader, are you picking up on the motivational stuff, here?)

“Fear is the mind killer.”

"The only thing to fear is fear itself.”

“I’m afraid, Dave.”

Many times, envisioning failure only serves to create it. I was going to say that it’s similar to the idea that you can create your own successes, as well, but while I believe that to be partially true, I think a few other factors need to be involved, like some sort of talent in the area you want to succeed. However, all you need is your own fears and insecurities to orchestrate failure.

Okay, enough about that. It sure was a long way around to a couple cliché paragraphs, but I’ll just say two things. 1- There’s a reason things are cliché, and B- I really just wanted to say how I finally won a game of Texas Hold-‘em a couple weeks ago. Jennifer was there with me, watching me play, and that always helps to look cool in front of your new girlfriend. Plus, I’m sure she was a little bit of good luck as well.

I know I should say more about Madison. Lots of trees. I mean, thick with ‘em. Super pretty. First time I’d seen lightening bugs since I was a little kid in the South. Some bar with a huge tree dominating the interior (might’ve even been “Paul’s.”), etc…, but I’ll save that for the longer version of this trip which will optimally be published one day (knock, knock, knock). With all due respects, though, it was great seeing Matt and his girlfriend, Liz, as well as other family I hadn’t seen in years. And if you’re ever in Madison, be sure to stop in to Cue-nique and ask to see the batcave.