• Degenerate Gambler Stories
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This is a discussion on The difference between a Degenerate Gambler and a Poker Player within the online poker forums, in the Cash Games section; I am. Re: I confess, I'm a degenerate gambler « Reply #7 on: October 18, 2018, 04:58:54 PM » I remember when 'gaming' became legal in my area, going with some work colleagues to count cards playing blackjack, and having the dealer deal from the bottom of the deck when I had a $100 bet when the count was 'hot'.

I spend much of my time on these pages writing about the entertainment and enjoyment casino gambling can provide.

And why not?

Like millions of other people all around the world, I love to beat the dealer at the blackjack table, bluff for big pots in a Texas holdem tournament, or even spin to win on the slots. Casinos have become a veritable home away from home for me at this point, as my passion for games of chance and skill has morphed into a part-time profession.

But it wasn’t always this way…

At one point in my life, I wasn’t gambling for fun, for profit, or for any other reason than my own compulsions.

That’s right, I used to be a problem gambler.

In all honesty, I prefer the term “degenerate gambler,” a phrase coined among the poker community to describe those folks who just can’t seem to quit the game. After all, gambling itself wasn’t the problem, I was.

Coming to Grips with My Gambling Problem

I still remember the day I was forced to realize that my gambling had gotten out of control. I was still in school, attending my state university and ostensibly studying to become a writer. At the time, blackjack and limit Holdem were my games of choice, both skill games in which I believed myself to have an edge.

One afternoon, like so many other afternoons before, I decided to make my way to the local tribal casino. This venue wasn’t much more than an extended canvas tent covering a scattered collection of table games and machines, but the decks had 52 cards apiece and the chips always cashed – so what did I care?

Back in college I went without a car, which seemed to make sense at the time. I lived on campus in the dorms, worked within walking distance, and didn’t have any family in-state to visit – so paying for a parking pass and gasoline didn’t add up.

Anyway, this arrangement led me to the public transportation system to get around the wider Phoenix metropolitan area. To reach the casino, I took two different bus lines over the course of about an hour. And even when I got off at my final stop, it took another 45 minutes or so of walking out to the desert outskirts before I finally got in the game.

At this point, many readers might notice that this routine of mine was a surefire sign of a gambling addiction. I mean, who takes two buses and walks several miles just to play blackjack at a rundown casino?

Well, me… that’s who. In my youth, I justified these measures as simple logistics, the price one must pay for being a pedestrian in a world full of highways and byways. Today though, I can see clearly how this “devotion” to my gambling was really just the desperation of an addict.

My plan for the evening was pretty straightforward. First, I’d tackle the blackjack tables to build a bankroll, which I’d then look to double or triple in the juicy limit holdem cash games that started up a little later on. I knew the last bus heading back to campus showed up around 2 a.m., so I had plenty of time to play before calling it a night.

After a few hours spent crushing a series of crestfallen blackjack dealers – between basic strategy and a bit of card counting, I really was good at the game – I had about $500 in profit to work with at the poker tables.

And that’s where things all went wrong.

I sat down to play poker at exactly 5:23 p.m., a moment in time I’ll never forget for reasons you’ll learn about shortly.

As luck would have it, this $4/$8 limit holdem game was action-packed and active, with most pots “capped” during the preflop and flop betting rounds. This created huge pots with hundreds of dollars up for grabs, and by playing my cards right, I managed to scoop my fair share. It was just one of those fateful nights every poker player dreams about – all my draws were connecting, my opponents were missing theirs, and I even cracked pocket Kings a few times holding rags.

All in all, life was good…

When a few hours had gone by and the clock moved past midnight, I knew it was probably time to rack up and make the long walk back to my bus stop. I had an early morning class the next day, and the bus system was notoriously inconsistent, so my plan was to leave when the big blind reached me next. That was scheduled to happen in four hands, so I figured no harm could come by staying to see if I could drag one last pot on my way out the door.

Of course, on the very next deal I wound up staring down at the prettiest sight in poker – pocket Aces. This being a loose limit Holdem game, I wasn’t in love with the American Airlines, but I couldn’t exactly fold them either. So I plowed ahead by capping the action preflop against six other players (I told you this was a juicy game).

The flop rained down A-2-5 rainbow and my heart started pumping a bit harder. Top set was a monster in Holdem, limit or otherwise, and when the betting revved up once again, I put the aggressor on an inferior pocket pair of 2-2 or 5-5.

Eventually, the herd was thinned to just myself and a lone opponent going to the turn, which brought an innocuous-looking 10 to the board. We capped the bets once again and saw the river card come with a second 10, giving me what looked for all the world to be a full house – and the top boat at that.

After another round of $32 wagers were fired into the middle, I was reaching for my final bet to call when I heard the cursed words.

“Jackpot! I have a jackpot hand, do you?”

My opponent flipped his 10-10 up on the felt, revealing four of a kind in 10s for a miraculous runner-runner victory. I turned my Aces over too, looking to the dealer with hope in my eyes, asking silently if the winner’s jackpot celebration was at all accurate.

But the dealer could only shake his head and call the floor. When the floorman arrived, he conferred with the dealer for a minute or so, then asked the table a single question:

“Did this man turn his hand over before that man called?”

And just like that, I managed to lose the biggest pot of the night AND a cool $15,000.

This casino card room did have a bad beat jackpot program in place, which paid out handsomely whenever somebody lost with Aces full of 10s or better. I just barely met the hand strength threshold, but with my Aces full losing to quad 10s, the jackpot was seemingly triggered.

The only thing is, my opponent “fouled” the hand by turning over his monster just a few seconds early. I hadn’t committed the last calling stack yet, so his reveal was deemed premature – and in the case of five-figure bad beat jackpots, the casino’s house rules served to protect the house.

The hand was declared ineligible for the jackpot, much to the chagrin of the man with the winning hand. While he argued his case, I just stared at my depleted stack and shook my head.

It was a quarter past midnight now and I needed to go, but my mind and body were disconnected at this point. Even while I went on “tilt” and recklessly gambled my remaining chips on bad hands and worse draws, my thoughts were on the paper I had due the next morning.

I wanted to leave, I had to leave, and yet… I couldn’t leave the casino.

I played poker until 3 or 4 a.m., losing every chip I had on the table, along with the cash reserves I had on hand. When the final pot was pushed, I stepped away from the table in a daze, distraught over what I perceived to be a truly terrible run of luck.

Degenerate Gambler Stories

There were still hours to go until the morning bus arrived, and I probably should’ve just stuck around the casino until then, but broke gamblers seldom stay at the scene of the crime.

So I walked… and walked, and walked some more. In the dead of night, through neighborhoods I didn’t know, I walked until I finally saw the orange sun splash over the desert.

I’d like to report that this was a silver lining of sorts, a brief moment of natural beauty in an otherwise awful day. But it was just a signal that my 7:00 a.m. class was about to start, all while I was still miles away.

When I finally reached the dorms, some six hours after leaving the casino, my shoes were ragged and worthless – and that’s exactly how I felt inside too.

I somehow managed to turn a fun and profitable evening at the casino into a catastrophe. Along with my gambling bankroll, I blew through my reserve funds, leaving myself not a nickel to buy food and other necessities.

A tough phone call with my father helped to solve that short-term problem, but I was coming to grips with a long-term issue – I gambled compulsively, and I couldn’t quit.

I’d like to tell you that this “lightbulb” moment was a revelation and that one night spent walking across town helped to cure my degenerate gambling. I’d like to tell you that, but I’d only be lying.

After my Pops wired $200 through Western Union to get me back on my feet, I found myself trying to double it up just two days later. I lost that money too, along with whatever sense of personal pride I once held.

Admitting You Have a Problem is the First Step – But It’s Only One Step

Degenerate Gambler Sopranos

I continued gambling throughout my college years and into adulthood, all while trying to reckon with the implications of that long walk.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that blowing your entire life bankroll in a poker game, and then going back to do it all again just days later, was an unsustainable lifestyle. I was no fool, and I realized intuitively that my gambling had gone off the deep end, but that doesn’t mean I knew how to stop either.

And that’s what compulsive gambling is – a compulsion. An insatiable drive that comes from somewhere deep down inside of you.

In the 12-step programs like Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), they have a saying about “one drink is too many, and a thousand are never enough.” That’s how I felt about my gambling habit during those post-college dark days.

I could play and win for a week, running up five-figure bankrolls that rivaled the bad beat jackpot I lost out on all those years ago. And yet, the money itself didn’t matter a lick. I wasn’t using it to buy anything nice, or to improve my own lifestyle – it was just the tool of my particular trade. Or a scoreboard used to assess my back and forth progress from one session to the next.

But a thousand wins were never enough… So I kept playing, day in and day out, while years and years passed.

My gambling addiction soon began to spiral into “sucker” games rather than the skilled pursuits of blackjack and poker. I used to pity the poor souls stuck like magnets to a slot machine, until I got my first taste of a progressive jackpot that is.

Playing the old Buffalo slot machine game on a lark – I think I was on a date and trying to keep my hardcore gambling under wraps – I turned a few quarters into $8,000 after only five spins. Obviously, the date went quite well that night, but even I was shocked to find myself lured back to the slot parlor the very next day.

Degenerate Gambler Memes

You’d be surprised at how quickly thousands of dollars can be eaten up by the slots, one quarter at a time. Within a week or so, that jackpot score was nothing but a memory, as I was left with nothing but a new addiction to the fast and frenetic video slots.

And on it went… I’d win a little here and there, or maybe even a lot, but I’d always give it back to the house in the end.

Eventually, having a family and finding a decent job helped to curtail my gambling addiction – but not because I wanted to quit. These personal and professional demands were simply the things I had to do before I could gamble again.

Even so, just having a day or two here and there spent outside of the casino seemed to work wonders. With that window of clarity, I began to come to grips with my compulsive gambling.

It wasn’t easy, mind you, but I managed to get a handle on things through a combination of therapy, long talks with the missus, and good old-fashioned willpower.

Getting Over the Problem Gambling Hump

I won’t profess to know how to cure anybody else’s gambling problem, so consider the following a personal testimonial – and not professional guidance of any sort.

Degenerate Gambler Images

When I truly realized I wanted to stop gambling so heavily, I tried the cold turkey method first. Those were some of the hardest weeks of my life, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I relapsed on more than one occasion in the early going.

But over time, the gaps in play I was able to produce kept getting longer. A week away from the tables turned into a month, and that somehow turned into six months, and so on.

All the while, I searched for ways to get my gambling “fix” without actually placing a bet.

I found video games to be quite effective, especially the card-based games played competitively online such as Hearthstone. This game incorporated decks of cards, one-on-one gameplay, strategy, skill, and all the other aspects of blackjack that I craved – but with none of the wagering.

Another escape I discovered was gambling literature. By reading profiles of the legendary MIT card counting team, biographies on my favorite poker pros, and even dense game design manuals, I was able to think about gambling without actually doing the deed.

When I finally started to get a handle on things, the final test involved visiting the casino with a group of friends. But rather than playing the games, I acted as the resident tour guide of sorts, pointing out machines with the highest return to player (RTP) rate and telling my friends how to maximize their comp points.

I enjoyed playing this casino host role immensely, as it allowed me the chance to show off everything I learned during my time as a player. But the real objective here was forcing myself to be around the sights and sounds of the casino floor without buckling to my urges.

Once again, I’m not above admitting my own failures, and more than a few of these excursions ended in shame when I couldn’t stop myself from firing a few “fun” bets.

As time passed, however, I developed a sense of discipline. I learned how to play only when it was socially acceptable – with friends and family, within my means.

Today, I visit casinos fairly regularly, more than the average recreational player for sure. Some trips are for work, and others for play, but I always keep myself in check. By setting clear limits on my play – both for losses and wins – I ensure myself a deadline of sorts. It doesn’t matter if I’m crushing the game, or getting my hat handed to me, because when the limit is hit I know it’s time to get up and head home to what really matters in my life.

And when the doubt creeps in, and my bad side begins beckoning me back to the tables, I just try hard to remember that long walk from so many years ago – and how badly it hurt.

Conclusion

I’ve been gambling since my days on the schoolyard, playing pogs for lunch money and betting baseball cards on WWF wrestling. And to tell you the truth, I’ve always loved it – even during the darkest days. That’s the toughest part about dealing with addiction, the realization that something which makes you happy is also horrible for you when indulged to excess.

Today I’m proud to say that my gambling activities are limited to leisure only. I play for fun, I never play alone, and I walk away whenever I lose my limit.

But it wasn’t always that way, and for far too many players out there, gambling can grow into a serious problem. If you identified with any of the confessions made above, please take every step to address the issue as you see fit. Research the symptoms of compulsive gambling, explore the latest treatment methods, and take a long, hard look in the mirror.

How To Become A Professional Gambler

Degenerate Gambler Youtube

If you don’t like what you see, it’s time to stop playing around and give gambling addiction a run for its money.