Poker players are passionate about the game. They exhibit their passion in different ways but it is always true to the core.
Sometimes I will take a couple of days off. I will climb into my car and drive to Rocky Point, Mexico for a weekend of deep sea fishing or frollicking with dark-eyed maidens while sampling their spicy foods and drinks.
I will walk down the narrow streets, smile at whomever I meet, and buy a souvenir or two to take back to the states.
But always in the back of my mind is poker.
I have actually dreamed about poker and plays I made in games and tournaments. Whether the play was a winning or losing one, it would cause me to wake up in the middle of the night. If it was a winning play, I would find myself smiling as I head for the refrigerator to find an early morning snack or to brew a quick cup of coffee or green team.
In the past I have played in poker games where the action and passion would lead to violence. I once saw an old man in a wheelchair, tubed to an oxygen tank, rise up out of his wheelchair and fly across the table in a vain attempt to punish a man who had ridiculed his play. Security guards had to restrain him. The two finally apologized to each other and the game got back to normal. Sort of.
When a person has been losing steadily, he doesn't think about what he is saying. The words just spew out like molten lava and singe the ears of anyone who is listening. I know those words well. God help my soul, I have said some of them myself.
But most poker players are equipped with forgiving hearts. After a while, tempers cool down and they once again begin treating each other like brothers or at least distant cousins. The game takes on a pleasant mood and it is fun again to try to outwit and outplay the other players for their stack.
You can make good friends at a poker table if you make an effort. A few weeks ago, I met Joe Pizza -- that's his real name -- in an Omaha High-Low game at Talking Stick Casino.
I can't remember the conversation, but I said something that appealed to Joe's sense of humor. He said something back. I liked what he said.
We did some more talking. He told me he had lived in San Juan, Puerto Rico where he operated a night club for 10 years. I told him about my experiences in the Caribbean. We talked about St. Kitts, Nevis, St. Maarten, Aruba and places where casinos existed. We became friends.
Anything a person enjoys can become an addiction and I have to admit I am addicted to poker. Why else would I spend countless hours in a confined atmosphere, rubbing shoulders with people I know as well as strangers, hoping for that miracle hand, a jackpot, a high hand, or even a bluff that will take down a pot?
Joe and I are planning to meet later today at Talking Stick. We will 'buck the tiger' and even check-raise each other. But we will do it with a smile and later retreat to the Orange Sky Room for a glass of chardonnay that will contribute to a day of life and add a little fuel to the passions of a poker player.
Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.
(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).
