Space Poker

I had an interesting discussion with someone at my "day job" the other day. He asked me how my Christmas was and if I got everything I wanted. I told him about Annie Duke's Epic Poker seminar that my mom got me as a combo gift for Christmas and my birthday, and how she had already ordered some poker books for me before she decided to get me the seminar, so I got the books too.

He said to me, "Wow, you're really into poker." And I said, "Yeah, I'm trying to become a poker pro."

It was at this point that he kind of chuckled and had a slight look of disbelief on his face, as if I was a five year-old telling him I wanted to be an astronaut. "That's nice, Kevin, but I heard outer space is really cold."

And that's when I realized that's exactly what I was telling him. I was basically telling him that I want to be an astronaut.

There's a certain mythos that people associate with being an astronaut. People see shuttles being launched into space, into outer space, and people walking on the moon, and it becomes this "larger than life" thing to them. And on top of it, so few people do it, that it seems impossible. But what a lot of people don't realize is that there is a body of work, a base, that all astronauts have. Sure it involves lots of physics and advanced physics and aeronautical engineering, and probably thousands of hours in a lab, and for some, time in the military. And yes, there are some who suffer setbacks and others that just don’t make the cut, but it's there, and it's something that any one of us could have done if we'd just decided that we wanted to do it.

I get the feeling that people see "professional poker" in much the same way. People watch poker on tv and they see these pros playing for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars, and that’s what they think it’s all about. It’s larger than life. For most of America, dollar figures like that are a fairy tale; something the Average Joe will never see in his lifetime.

But what people don’t see are the thousands of hours of work poker players put in. They don’t see the hand analyses, the book reading, the coaching, the tournament bust-outs, the year-long card droughts, the days upon days spent at the poker table learning and re-learning their craft. They don’t understand that what they see on tv is not only the culmination of years of struggle and hard work, but it’s also just a small piece of professional poker. Just like they don’t really comprehend all the years of struggle and hard work it took to be an astronaut on the shuttle they just watched get launched into space, but also that a shuttle launch is just a small piece of being an astronaut.

But what they don’t realize about poker, just like becoming an astronaut, is that there is no mythos. It’s not magical. It’s work. Anybody can do it if they’re willing to put in the work and put themselves on the line.

To me, being a professional poker player means making a living playing poker. It means that I play poker so that I can put food on my table and pay my bills. At its simplest, that’s what it is. Sure, there’s more to it once you get to the big stage. In fact, Matt Glantz wrote a great blog about responsibility in poker. But, for now, I just want to pay my rent.

And the best part of the whole thing, as a 32, nigh 33, year-old bachelor bartender college dropout, is that I’ve finally realized that I can do it to. I can become a professional poker player. In poker I’ve found something that I’m passionate about; something for which I’ve been searching for damn near 12 years. I’m willing to put in the work. I want to read the books. I’m happy to do the homework.

I’ve already seen more improvement in my poker game in the last three months than I did in the previous eight years. I can only imagine what I’ll be able to do as I put in more and more hours at the table and in the books.

This is what I want to do for the rest of my life and I expect people to be skeptical when I tell them what I want to be when I “grow up.” But it’s fun telling them I want to be an astronaut.