Taking David to Bay 101

Teach, your children well…

About six and a half years ago, the best thing that ever happened to me took place: I got married. Now, I'd been married before, and it didn't work out. But this time … well, it was patently obvious to me that I needed to be married to this woman, Lisa. She happened to have two sons, David (then 14) and John (then 10). So, I figured, "In for a penny, in for a pound," and signed up for the whole package (including two dogs and a cat). But then, an interesting thing happened: I discovered I loved being a dad.

Don't get me wrong – being married to Lisa is still the high point of my life. But, I'd never had kids, and, well, who'da thought it would be such a blast? I've taught them to eat Indian food and sushi, introduced them to scuba diving, flown them to London for the first time, helped them with math and English homework, and (yes) stayed up wee hours into the night when they didn't come home. They, on the other hand, have taught me approximately a zillion things more than that; this is not news to any parent who is reading this.

Did I mention that I taught them poker? I still remember the first time we let David play in one of our home games. He was maybe 16. A family friend, Ione, was coaching him. The game was hold'em – probably 50 cents-$1, or so. Anyway, he looked at his cards and quickly raised, with Ione subtly nodding approval. One or two people called. The flop came with a king and two rags. David almost came up out of his seat: "Yes!" Ione buried her face in her hands, and said, "David, we need to work on your poker face." His two opponents quickly folded without the silly formality of David actually betting. It seems that he had flopped top set.

Fast-forward (and believe me, it did) five years. David celebrated his 21st birthday a couple of weeks ago, and the stars aligned so that he, brother John, and I were able to go out to dinner with two of our very best friends, Berend and Eugene. Lisa was out with friends, so it was a boys' night out. After an exquisite Persian dinner, we realized we could take David to nearby Bay 101 for his first session of casino poker. We dropped John off at the house (his turn will come), and headed over there. "Think I'll get carded?" "What hands should I play?" "When should I raise?" "How much are the blinds?"

It wasn't long before David was called into a $3-$6 game. Berend got another seat in the game, and I sat behind David just to enjoy the fun. And it was marvelous. I demanded to be allowed to buy him in, arguing that the utility of the $100 to me was far less than the enjoyment I'd have, but the same could probably not be said for a 21-year-old college student. I watched proudly as David folded hand after hand, religiously following the guidelines I'd given him.

"What guidelines?" you ask. I told him that if he got A-A, K-K, Q-Q, J-J, A-K, or A-Q suited, to raise, reraise, or cap it. In short, just put more money in. If he got 10-10, 9-9, 8-8, any suited blackjack or suited 20-point hand, he could call one bet. But if it was raised to him and he couldn't reraise, he couldn't call two bets cold; he would have to fold. That's insanely tight, you might say, and so it was. But I wasn't going to let him navigate the choppy waters of a California $3-$6 no-fold'em hold'em game without a premium hand.

I told him that after the flop, he could continue if, and only if, he had top pair (or could beat top pair), an open-end straight draw, or a flush draw. "Anything else, you are done with the hand."

For more than an hour, David blithely threw away every single hand that came his way. He'd get the big blind, look at his cards, check (if he had the opportunity), and then fold when there was a bet to him. His only shortcoming, as I could see, was that he routinely forgot to protect his cards – this despite having a special souvenir card protection chip that I had designed for the 1999 BARGE convention. It has a cool picture of a percula clown fish on it. "I was watching Nemo last night, so I brought this one," he explained. Eventually, one of the dealers (thank you, Gary) reached over (David was in the No. 1 seat) and dropped the clown fish on his cards. I dropped a dollar in Gary's tray.

I wandered away for a while to watch Eugene in his own $3-$6 game. When I came back, Berend waved me over with a huge grin on his face. "David got pocket aces, raised, flopped a set, and dragged a huge pot." I looked over at David. Could this really be my son? He was coolly arranging his chips and watching the action as if he'd been doing it all his life. This is the same kid who's getting ready to head to a semester in Spain in a week? I mean, wasn't it just a few months ago that I was explaining that a flush beats a straight and, yes, you have to wear a bicycle helmet?

Anyway, I had to head home relatively early, having the normal adult responsibilities on my plate for the next day. Berend and David were having too much fun at their table, so Berend volunteered to bring him home later. David slipped in the side entrance to our home office about an hour later.

"I won $50!" he said in the best stage whisper he could manage, hoping not to wake his mom. He regaled me with each of the very few hands he played – I think it was four – and he won all but one of them. "They never noticed that I wasn't playing any hands." No, I reckon they didn't. "How much of this profit can I keep?"

"Gimme $10 and we'll call it a deal."

"Thanks for dinner and poker, Lee – that was a blast." And he kissed me on my bald head and went to his room.

Teach, your parents well …