What made tonight’s poker session feel extra special? Was it the killer kale salad or maybe the power nap? Either way, something felt different.
Three times, I found myself in the bliss of poker nirvana. The third was so profound that I had to rush home and type about it.
Topping off at Oaks
After COVID, poker players started gathering again, eager to reconnect with the game. And that’s when I got the call from my best local poker buddy, Lee Jones.
“Do you know what’s happening at Oaks lately?” he asked.
“Do tell!”
“They’ve got a $2/$3/$5 game where you can straddle from any seat, and everybody’s agreed to do winner straddles pretty much all the time. So, the game’s become a $2/$3/$5/$10 game.”
“You’re telling me the hive-mind agreed to double the stakes?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Lee said. “Maybe COVID spooked people into thinking they should get all the action they can while they can.”
The Oaks Card Room has been minutes from my house for the past ten years. But I hadn’t played there much because I usually enjoy $5/$10 to $10/$25 games. Lee knew a loose $5/$10 game might drag me out, and he was right. After a few visits, I decided to make Oaks my new home base—part-time and party time.
I like that the game plays like a $5/$10, but with a $1,000 max buy-in. It’s perfect for reckless all-ins. I keep a stash of $100 chips on hand to top off my stack when it falls below $900.
Nirvana Story #1
The first hand I played was against Erwin, a fun-loving old guy who often limps into pots. He bought in for $500, as usual, and limped in half the time.
The flop came J-9-2 rainbow, and I had pocket nines. I made it $60, and the other players folded, leaving just Erwin and me.
We went through the usual bet-raise-raise-shove-call routine, all set to the rhythm of Comfortably Numb. When I called his shove, I casually rolled out my set of nines. Erwin looked at my cards and turned over a jack. He wore a smirk, saying, “I’ve got one measly pair, but if I somehow hit runner-runner, this will be wild!”
You already know what happened, right?
The turn came—a ten. And then the river? Another ten. The final board was J-9-2-T-T. Erwin’s grin grew as he revealed his other hole card: a ten. His tens-full beat my nines-full.
Was it the kale salad or something else that had me feeling okay about the loss?
The Exact Moment of Loss
Loose-passive players have what Lee calls a “see-the-flop” range. Erwin’s Jack-Ten fit right in. As soon as the turn and river cards were dealt, I knew if he had another ten, I was done. But it wasn’t fear or dread—it was just poker. When you have the best hand, you hope your opponents are drawing dead. But if they aren’t, you might lose.
This wasn’t a loss I needed to get over. It’s poker. I was okay with it.
Anyone who plays live poker often knows how their opponent will act when they’re about to show or muck their hand. Erwin’s hand took the low, slow approach. I could see I was beat the moment I saw him roll out his other card—a ten.
But by the time it was over, I was already over it. The hive made its sympathy sounds, and I snapped off another $500 to the pot, topping off my stack to $1,000 without a second thought.
Poker-Nirvana Symptom #1: Painless Losing
Somehow, losing that big hand was painless. I was still having fun, and Erwin was enjoying his win so much that I couldn’t help but smile along with him.
Nirvana Story #2
We’ve all seen this happen. Someone loses a big pot, then comes out firing on the very next hand. Is it a cosmic shift? Did their raising range just expand?
The next hand, I got A-K in the cutoff. Five players limped in for $10, and with the taste of a suckout still fresh, I threw in a playful raise: “Let’s play for a hundred! And no, this is not a tilt raise!” Laughter followed.
One player said, “You have every right to tilt after that brutal beat,” and the others nodded. But he was wrong. According to The Book of Sanctioned Poker Emotions, I should’ve been angry, but instead, I was giddy.
Poker-Nirvana Symptom #2: Unwarranted Giddiness
I was supposed to be unhappy, but instead, I felt an energy surge. I was in a good mood, even after the loss.
Nirvana Story #3
After losing a couple hundred, I reached for my pocket for more chips. I had just lost a big hand when Ned opened for $40, I raised to $200 with pocket jacks, and Ned called with six-five suited. After a few dramatic turns, he won the hand, leaving me with only $750 on the table.
I reached into my pocket to reload, but something felt off. I should’ve had ten $100 chips, but my fingers only felt five. I quickly remembered that I’d reloaded after losing to Erwin, which is why I had only five chips in my pocket.
And then, whoosh, it hit me: I’d just experienced nirvana. I hadn’t even realized I was down $500. I hadn’t thought about the previous hand or the loss at all during that half hour.
Poker-Nirvana Symptom #3: Severe Memory Loss
For thirty minutes, it was as if the hand against Erwin never happened. I was unaware of my stack, my losses, or anything negative. I was just playing poker.
Was it the kale salad? Maybe. Or maybe it was just poker nirvana. Whatever it was, it felt pretty damn good.
