You know there’s a credit crunch on when city boys can no longer afford to play poker
You’ve got to feel for my friend Andy. He’s a pretty smart guy, a good poker player and the only magazine writer I know who walks around with wads of $ 100 bills in his pocket. That kind of cash doesn’t come from journalism, it comes from playing a mathematically sound game of Texas Hold’em. In New York, where, until recently, money flowed like the proverbial water, Andy viewed local poker games as can’t-lose opportunities.
Even after the illicit cardrooms shut down, back when Gotham entered a poker drought, he managed to find action against weak opponents. Andy worked his way into soft home games and played in the backrooms of restaurants. He won money from Wall Street wizards who didn’t know what to do with their extra cash in a city that worshipped the financial markets. ‘I did well enough,’ Andy says, ‘that I never had to use an ATM machine. It wasn’t crazy money, but I was able to make $ 1,000 or $ 2,000 a week.’
Mopping up
Andy is the first to admit that he’s not a world-class poker player. But he’s good enough to clean up in games where a few free-spending fish tend to swim through. He recounts one game where four or five free-spenders would routinely be scattered across two tables. ‘They’d drop $ 20,000 between them,’ says my friend. ‘Everybody else just chopped the fish money.’
How sweet would it get? Sweet enough that on one night, when Andy found himself $ 5k in the hole, he wasn’t too concerned. Instead of heading home he ponied up some more cash. With just a couple of hours left in the night, Andy figured he could turn things around – even though they were playing only $ 5/$ 10 no-limit. After winning back $ 2,000 of his money, he got dealt 9h-7h in late position and made a loose call. Then he made a flush on the flop, an opponent pushed all-in, somebody else called and, under normal circumstances, Andy would have folded with what seems to be a second or third best flush. ‘But this game was so ridiculous that I had to call,’ he says. ‘It turned out the initial raiser had a six-high straight and the other guy was on a draw. My hand held and I won for the night.’
It was the kind of performance that earned him a nickname from one of his more good-natured customers: Payday Andy.
Besides padding his wallet, the ongoing fish-fests also helped his general wellbeing. ‘It made me more optimistic and balanced things out when I had a bad day at work or saw my stocks dipping,’ says Andy. ‘The games were good and I always knew that I could get more money when I needed it. We had guys who would buy in for $ 1,000 and shove blind because they thought that shit was funny.’
Wall Street
All went well until late last year when things began to dry up. At first it wasn’t 100% noticeable – guys always come and go in these games. Sometimes they get girlfriends, buy houses or lose on sports. Poker nights trundled along, but there were fewer players and bad signs for the future. ‘It felt weird not hearing stockbrokers call American Express to report their lost cards,’ Andy says, laughing.
When the fish failed to migrate back, Andy suspected that the good old days were over. Now, as March looms, he fears the worst. ‘When Wall Street implodes and the money stops rolling in, big losers find it easy to focus on their families. They feel like assholes for dropping thousands of dollars in a casual poker game. If you’re not a total degenerate, everything starts to take precedence over your gambling habit.
‘Last week, for the first time I can remember, our Wednesday night game was cancelled due to lack of interest. A few days ago I had to go to the ATM for spending money. And I’ve got to tell you, it really sucked.’
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