Back to the Future of Poker

I had never realized the importance of my legacy to the world of poker literature until both the Smithsonian and the Library of Congress began vying for the honor of acquiring and exhibiting my collective works after my death. In fairness to both, I finally decided to split my treasure trove between them. I then began searching through the hundreds of columns I have written to determine who would get what. This took a very long time because my earliest columns were hard to read, since they were written with a quill pen, and also because once I began to decipher them, I couldn't stop laughing.

One column in particular brought me up short. It amazed me because it predicted the direction of poker so accurately in one sense and so incorrectly in another. At the time, a company had announced that it was working on a computerized poker table, and I reflected on the consequences of such a revolution. With the kind permission of the author, I would like to quote passages from my column, which carried the headline of "Coney Island, Computers, and Cards":

"People are wondering what place the new computerized poker table that needs no cards, chips, or dealer might someday have in the industry. I think this table can find a niche, possibly for some low-limit games. But I hope it won't take over completely, because the price of such technology would be the loss of much of the fun, color, and tradition of the game.

"Poker is a hands-on activity, and pushing buttons cannot replace the sensual pleasure one gets from handling the cards and chips (and occasionally the dealer). I respect technology, but am not thrilled about its impact on our game.

"I grew up during the '40s in Brooklyn, and spent as much time as possible in the wonderland of that era known as Coney Island. The penny arcade machines really cost only a penny then and they were operated mechanically. There was a baseball machine where a steel ball rolled down a slide, and you jerked a trigger to swing a bat and send the ball soaring. At the boxing machine, you and a friend hand-manipulated little cast-iron figures. You shoved them back and forth and frantically flailed their arms until you connected with the opposing fighter's chin and sent him crashing to the canvas.

"The video arcade games that came later had little appeal for me, despite their wizardry, flashing lights, and sound effects. Electronically zapping a fleet of alien space ships couldn't compare with the excitement of knocking that little iron man on his butt with one savage uppercut.

"In the '50s I began visiting that adult version of Coney Island called Las Vegas. I was playing for nickels now, but a roll could last forever. When you dropped a coin into a slot machine and yanked that big handle, the reels spun around and around for ages before each one in turn slowed to a halt. Today you play for dollars at a time and the electronic 'spin' lasts for about two microseconds – as much fun as having sex while wearing a raincoat.

"Now, imagine playing poker on a computerized table that electronically shuffles and deals; keeps perfect track of antes, bets, pots, and everyone's chip count; and does everything but make coffee.

"The first thing we'd miss is our chips – those pretty little clay disks we stack, bet, and keep score with. What would we do with our hands if we had no chips to jiggle, juggle, and riffle? And think of the power rush when we push in a pile of chips and yell, 'Cap it!' Isn't that more gratifying than pushing a button?

"And when we rake in the pot of the night and gleefully build chips into thrusting towers – will it feel just as good to have a blip on a screen tell us we've just won a pot of $564.50?

"As for the cards, we pick them up with expectation. We shuffle them ritualistically. We squeeeeeze out the final stud holecard to see if we've hit that heart flush. With a nut hand, we love to lift the edges of our holecards for the thrill of reassurance.

"When we hit a dry spell, we can ask the dealer for a deck change. What would we ask a robot, to change its circuits? I know an Omaha player by the name of Screaming Susan who's the dread of every dealer in Southern California. Without cards to throw, she'd die of frustration.

"It's true that eliminating dealers would eliminate tokes. I could live for years on what they've already cost me. On the other hand, could an electronic poker table tell me ballgame scores or bad jokes? Whom could I blame when I'm losing? Certainly not me!

"And the error-free world of computers is a bit sterile for my taste. I enjoy an occasional dealer lapse and the resulting yelling match (when it doesn't involve me), to say nothing of a little fistfight between other players once in a while."

Well, since I wrote that, the closest we've come to a computerized table in a card casino is the automatic shuffling machine. However, we now have online poker, so everything I wrote 12 years ago has come to pass.

On the other hand, I never imagined I could also someday play right at home, on my own computer, in my pajamas, with my pick of numerous games, even several at once if I wanted to lose several times as fast. So, I was obviously way off base when I expressed my disdain for computerized poker. Not only do I find myself putting in substantial hours online, I'm even one of the "experts" and a tournament bounty for one of the Internet sites.

Of course, I still also require the personal interaction and tactile pleasure that only live poker can deliver. And I never heard of anyone getting disconnected at a land-based casino. However, I keep thinking of what happened the other night when I was playing pot-limit Omaha high-low online. On fourth street, I had a set of kings and a nut-flush draw. I hit the flush on the river, went all in against another player, and was startled to see my chips move to him until I realized he had made a straight flush. I was able to direct the sort of language at my monitor that would have gotten me barred from any brick-and-mortar casino. It's too bad my opponent couldn't hear me. I guess online poker isn't perfect yet.

Well, one can only wonder what startling, unforeseeable developments in poker I'll be writing about 12 years from now, in 2017. You know, like getting a raise from Barry Shulman.