Luck, and the Poker Gods

Cosmology is the branch of philosophy that deals with the origins of the universe. Not surprisingly, there are many philosophical arguments for the existence of God. One such argument, reduced to its essentials, goes like this: (A) The universe features odd problems; (B) The existence of a creator would explain those problems; © No other hypothesis manages to explain them; ergo (D) God must exist. Critics contend there's a flaw in the syllogism, and that it lies in (B) – does the existence of God really explain said problems, or does it simply defer the explanation?

Similar questions sometimes arise when considering the subject of luck. For example, we all know about standard deviation, but poker's a volume business, and variations beyond the standard do occur. Indeed, some deviations are so mind-numbingly deviant, they can eat away at our skulls and send us wandering in the night in search of metaphysical answers. When such streaks occur in the positive, most of us simply shrug and chalk them up to "good luck," and when they occur in the negative, to "bad luck." But do these terms really explain anything, or are they just the labels we assign to elusive phenomena, semantic posts to lean against in the absence of real understanding?

Defining luck is a dicey business. My Random House dictionary offers as its primary definition: "the force that seems to operate for good or ill in a person's life, as in shaping events, circumstances, and opportunities." Note that it doesn't say "a force that operates for good or ill … " but "a force that seems to operate … " Hmm. Is luck, then, a force … or the perception of a force? A cause … or an effect? If the latter, of what? The truth is, it's a term so inexact that even lexicographers, whose business is exactness, leave themselves a semantic out – or so, at least, it seems.

We've all heard those pithy maxims about the value of preparation, and its relation to luck. "Luck is the residue of design," "Luck favors the well-prepared," and so on, the idea being that good luck is wasted on those who are insufficiently prepared to exploit it. But aside from aphorisms in Bartlett's, there's no real literature on luck, nor is there any website to log on to for answers. And while many good players – the kind from whom you learn – may court a lucky image, luck itself is not something they tend to dwell on, for the simple reason that it's a factor they recognize to be beyond their control. Weak players, on the other hand, often obsess over the subject, continually attributing their opponents' successes to good luck and their own failures to bad. Some spend lifetimes looking for ways to manipulate their luck, an attempt that usually takes the form of playing lots and lots of hands. In the end, of course, there are only two things you can really do about luck: handle the bad and be prepared for the good. Like the poet says: the readiness is all.

The best marriage of preparation to fortune it was ever my luck to witness took place in a two-table poker room in Oregon when I was 21. The place was run by a big, friendly guy named Jack, who usually sat in on the games. Although lowball was the only legal game in town, every once in a while we played five-card stud. The $2-$10 stakes were a mere technicality; every bet was $10, huge money for me in those days. One night, a kid we'd never seen before walked in and joined us in a game of stud. He was even greener than I was, but he managed to stay afloat until late in the evening, when a pretty big hand developed between us. Starting with an ace up and an ace down against his queen, I hit the hat trick on third street and he caught a queen. It soon became apparent to everyone in the Pacific Northwest (everyone, that is, but the kid himself) that we'd both made trips, and it must have been pretty amusing to watch, for in our efforts to disguise the strength of our hands while jamming the pot at every turn, we both acted our little heads off. You never saw so much casual shoulder-shrugging and fake deep thinking in your life. What a couple of ham sandwiches! We chewed the scenery all the way to fifth street until finally, after about the 10th raise, the kid was all in. His stunned reaction when I turned over the third ace made it crystal clear that he'd never for a single moment considered the possibility that his three ladies were beaten. It was also clear from the anger in his eyes as they darted suspiciously from me to Jack that he considered himself a victim not of bad luck, but of a swindle.

You could have cut the tension with a knife, but the kid had another weapon in mind. He angrily bolted from the room, and we listened as his truck screeched out of the parking lot. None of us really thought much of it, though, and after a lively rehash of the hand, the cards were in the air and all of us forgot about him – all of us, that is, except Jack, who waited a few minutes, then quietly, without comment, pushed his chips across the table to a chair facing the window. For my money, it was the best seat change in history, because a half-hour later that truck crept back into the parking lot with its lights off, and the kid hopped out with a pistol. Luckily for me, Jack had seen it coming, and before the rest of us knew what was happening, Jack had grabbed his shotgun, bounded outside, and quickly "persuaded" the kid that he'd do well to get back in his truck and be on his way.

Luck? Fortune? Providence? Call it what you will, the poker gods were with all three of us that night. I was lucky not to get turned into Swiss cheese, the kid was lucky that someone stopped him before doing something that would have ruined his life, and Jack was lucky to avoid an ugly scandal that would have shut his doors forever. But whereas my luck and the kid's were delivered on a silver platter, Jack's "luck" – the luck that saved us all – was self-generated, the result of anticipating a possible outcome, and being prepared to handle it.

When all is said and done, that's pretty much what poker is – anticipating outcomes, and readying yourself to handle them. Lady Luck may move around, but she knows what she likes, and she really does have a weakness for the well-prepared. On that optimistic note, allow me to wish you all the "best of luck" in the coming year. Of course, with luck being so subjective and all, and taking into account the varying readiness levels in people's games, I guess you could take that two ways – either "Keep up the good work" or "Wake up and smell the chips."

Either way, have a happy New Year.