Bet, Bet, Bet, Bet, Bet, Bet, Bet

August 30, 2024

I host poker night. This started when I worked at National Geographic and became a monthly ritual for 20 years, and now, a catch as catch can when we can. I don’t play for the money — I play for the camaraderie.

Eric arrives carrying a six-pack of Yuengling, then stands in the kitchen, one thumb hooked into his jeans’ pocket, catching up on what has happened since the last text. Even though he’s the youngest member of the group, he never feels or seems out of his league. Dependable, willing, even tempered, Eric will play cards conservatively yet never let on he has a winning hand.

Dave shows up with dessert, usually bags of various cookies from the gourmet market. He also brings his iPod to connect to my Bose since no one likes my selection of music. Open, engaging, and occasionally intense, Dave will risk a hand if he thinks it might be better than the others. Often, he decides rightly.

If Ian hasn’t snagged a date, he’ll often grab a ride with Eric or Dave. He brings himself, no more, which is enough. He will sometimes start a party but will always end it with the whole room surrounding him. He has that ability to be intimate and gregarious at the same time. Ian feels the game of poker, watches everyone, listens, and remembers. He can count on one hand the number of times he has won, but he comes back for more.

Robbie arrives with his enormous capacity for jokes. A connoisseur of jazz and rock, he always brings a selection from his collection. Robbie and Dave have known each other since elementary school, and somewhere along the way, “bite me” entered their vocabulary — now, it’s in ours as well. Robbie sits daintily for a large man, holding cards close to his chest, scrutinizing face-up cards and each call, bet, and raise, and, unless he has complete shit in his hand, plays to the end. Often, he has a Manhattan skyline of chips in front of him at the end of the evening.

Before organizing this group, George had already played cards for decades. Ours is only one of his several poker groups. His mouth matches the speed of his brain, but he will slow down to explain, yet again, the crazy, wild game of the moment. George operates on the principle of keeping the players honest; unless he has absolutely shitty cards, he’ll play his hand to the end to make sure his last remaining opponent doesn’t bluff.

Kevin is our newest member. If he is baffled by our rituals, he has not shown it. He approaches each new game with bravery, and if he loses a hand, chalks the loss in the “lessons” column. Several of us are single malt aficionados, and Kevin won our hearts with his generous sharing of whisky from his rare collection.

What I’ve learned about life, I’ve learned from these fellows, this merry band of jokers. And I thank them.