Life... What About It?

Through my life I guess I’ve found anything I’ve done to be another analogy to life itself in general. First came baseball, which dominated well over half of my life to this point. Soon after those days were over I became engrossed in pool and found all those same metaphors in that game. Today I guess poker has slowly started to become my newest of incarnations, and I find myself comparing many life situations to the newest of addictions that causes my brain to release all that wonderful dopamine.

You know that feeling you get when it’s showdown time and you’re prepared to flip over your monster hand and wonder where you’re gonna have room for all those pretty chips. Suddenly you feel your jaw slide downward as that smirk on your face turns more into a shape likening that of a Vietnamese hooker (you know what I mean, don’t deny it). Your heart sinks, lungs become void of all air, and your brain melts itself in disbelief of the better hand your opponent shows. Suddenly you are at best on life support, trying to remember that part about the plug in your living will.

Sometimes when it’s getting down to the wire and you don’t have many chips left, you think back about where you went wrong along the way and how you got yourself in this situation in the first place. I must say I certainly short-stacked myself in the game of life as well. It’s not that I didn’t have my chances, I just pulled some bad moves and caught a few bad beats along the way. Somehow I always pull myself (by “myself” I mean with a lot of help) back into contention, only to once again get myself busted back down again. Basically I guess I’m just a fine concoction of pride, ego, and self destruction.

Such as life, we’re all dealt certain cards. Some jump right off with a great advantage, others of us need to get a little creative and catch some luck. Pocket aces get broken, 2-7 wins huge pots sometimes, and the world just keeps on spinnin’- oblivious to the chaos running amok within her own house. You run into a bluff, but can’t find a reasoning to call him on it. You catch someone with their hand in the cookie jar, yet somehow each tiny morsel finds it’s way into their sneering mouth. You win some, you lose some, you’re up, you’re down, you’re good, you’re bad, you smile, your frown, you pull the gun from your head and realize life, you get hit by a bus on the way home. Turn, turn, turn.

There’s lots of stuff going on right now, some good some bad. The really bothersome part of it is that, much like my nose in a field sobriety test, a lot of it is just things that I can’t quite put my finger on. The mysteries, the unknown, the cards turned down in each hand around the table. All things are feasibly within reach, yet little gaps of information that are not in plain view prevent me from finding that next solution. Time runs short, and an “all-in” or a “lay back” approach can each yield very similar or very different results, with varying degrees of consequence awaiting around each corner. Ah the unknown, what a bitch of a mistress she be.

So what of all this? Nothing really, it’s a friggin personal rant, creative writing in which one can churn out the deepest thoughts, yet bury the simple truth in a forest of symbolism. Poker simply relates because I have a screwed up mind. Plus I understand poker, so it’s easier to deal with than life itself anyway. Bottom line: I just took a bad beat and am hurting bad, but I’ve learned to deal with those. It’s what ya do with those few chips that still remain that can define who you are. And rest assured, as long as The Sack has some life in him, he’s always got some balls-out fight in him. Turn, turn, turn.

Actually Playing Well,
Sack

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