IN THE CARDS

by John
Vorhaus

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

The Butterfly Effect is a phenomenon known to meteorologists and other students of... well, of phenomena like the Butterfly Effect. What it says, simply, is that a butterfly batting its fragile wings in China can, under the right atmospheric conditions, trigger a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. It's science's way of saying that anything is possible.

I use the Butterfly Effect to remind me that everything is part of everything else. Just as that butterfly in China affects the weather in Curacao, things that happen to me far away from the poker table affect how I play and whether I win or lose. Case in point: Last week I was driving to a poker tournament in Los Angeles. It was a hot and sunny Saturday afternoon, and I left in plenty of time to enjoy the drive and still catch the first flop. No way could I possibly be late, unless I encountered some outrageous traffic, but why would there be outrageous traffic on a Saturday afternoon?

Well, there was, and it turned the freeway into a parking lot. So I got off the freeway -- bailed, in the vernacular. No problem. I know a dozen different bails to the card club. No way I'm going to be late. 

Unless there happens to be a train, stuck, blocking the road. 

Well, to make a long, excruciating story less long and therefore less grim, I missed the first flop by two minutes. This should not have been a problem, except that a dealer had called in sick, so the alternate players' list was longer than usual. So long that I didn't get into the tournament at all.

Big deal, you say? So I missed a little tournament? So what? Well, you know what, or anyway if you don't know I think you can guess. Having driven all that way, having weathered traffic and trains and short stoplights and stupid drivers, I was in no mood to turn around and drive back home. Even though I'd had every intention of playing in the tournament only, I soon found myself with a rack of chips and a seat in a live game.

I have to be honest with myself (you have to be honest with yourself): I was steaming before I ever sat down. I'd had the expectation of playing in a tournament, and the explosive defeat of that expectation put me on tilt. I won't bore you with the gory details. Suffice to say that I got creamed. And I had no one to blame but myself.

Think about it. We go to the club with the best of intentions. We're only going to play our game at our stakes. But then something small and unforeseen happens -- that Butterfly Effect -- and the option we want is no longer available. Maybe the game broke up. Maybe the dealer went home sick. Maybe the new shift boss thinks Omaha is a loony game and won't spread it anymore. Maybe they're filming a stupid tv commercial outside the club and your game of choice closes out in the time it takes you to detour around the key grip.

Whatever.

Anything can happen. And if you don't expect it to happen, if you don't plan for it, it can put you on tilt. After that... well, you know. We crash, we burn, we drive home with regret. Discipline is a great thing. But discipline means more than just folding bad hands. Discipline seeps into every part of a winning player's game. Its lack in any aspect of play can put the best player into a tailspin. And discipline happens -- has to happen -- before we even sit down to play.

Look, I don't hold my mistakes against me. I've made them before, and lord knows I'll make them again. If I had it to do over again, I'd have left my house ten minutes sooner, or turned around and driven home as soon as it became clear that I wasn't going to be able to play my game on my terms. No matter. As they say at Chernobyl, that's fuel under the reactor now.

But if I don't learn from my mistakes, then I'm at the continued mercy of the Butterfly Effect. So I make every effort to take a note on the experience, and the next time I'm whacked upside the head by the explosive defeat of my expectations, I hope and trust that I'll be strong enough, disciplined enough, to walk away.

How about you? Do you learn from your mistakes? Or does every little Caribbean storm take you by surprise? The worst ones start in China, you know. And we never see them coming at all.