Memoirs of a Gambler

Amsterdam was charming in the promising sunshine of July. World Cup fever was in full grip and the Dutch colours were draped like oranges from pillar to post. I was in Amsterdam to celebrate that I’d completed university, one of the first in my family ever to hold a degree. My friends and I were looking for postgraduate careers now, but before that we wanted to mark the end of an era with this trip.

I was eager to indulge in the delights that the Dutch capital was so famous for: historic museums, quaint canals, liberal red lights, and, perhaps, a particular type of cake that may not be lawfully obtained in the land of my fathers. However, it was a drug of a different kind that would shape my visit to the city… and the entire course of my life.

The summer sun was setting beautifully, its final rays shimmering across the city’s canals. It was complemented by an almost chaotic freedom as the cyclists infested the streets and the vehicles seemed to flow instinctively through a maze of intersections and tramlines. It was much more liberal than my homeland and it all seemed to work, just about.

Within a few minutes of walking, we arrived at the casino. It was located in a charming little square of bars and restaurants with a water fountain as its centrepiece. Inside, it looked more like Las Vegas with its rich red carpets, flashing lights, immaculate staff, and not a clock in sight.

I had frequented the casinos of Cardiff in the past, never spending more than about forty pounds, but this felt a little different. Despite it seeming larger and, I suppose, more exclusive, we were not expecting a ten-euro charge to enter. I looked at Minty, the marginally shorter of my two compatriots, and he pulled his usual expression of slight dissatisfaction but reluctant acceptance.

We had all been fairly decided on our plan for the evening, so we paid up and headed straight for the bar. We took our Dutch beers and found ourselves an empty table. It was at this point that I noticed a specific signposted section of the casino exclusively for Texas hold ’em poker. I knew the others had no interest in the temptations of the house, so I encouraged them to go ahead to the restaurant should I not return within a suitable time frame. In truth, I didn’t intend on playing for more than an hour. As it turned out, I did not end up taking any longer than this, but it was by no means the hour I was expecting…

“Excuse me, are there any tables opening up?” I enquired with one of the croupiers.

“Yes, sir. Please take a seat here.” She directed me to an empty table. “Minimum buy-in is one hundred euros.”

She informed me of that just as I was about to take forty euros out of my wallet.

I tried to maintain a sense of composure, but I was slightly shocked. I suppose it was my pride that stopped me from walking away at this point, and in my head I quickly formulated a plan to fold a few hands, finish my drink, and walk away without too much embarrassment.

The table instantly filled up, and there were nine players including myself. I can’t say I took too much notice of the others but, after taking a nervous sip of my beer, it unsettled me when I saw them exchanging mountains of notes for stacks of one-hundred-euro chips.

I was going to start this game as the short stack by several hundred, and as I finally began to look into the eyes of my fellow players, I could see them staring at my pocket change. I took a large swig of my beer and looked across at the dealer, willing him to get it over with.

The dealer did not look much older than me, maybe twenty-five, but he was a competent professional and hypnotised us with an exotic dance with the cards before stopping them dead in the middle of the green-clothed table. He proceeded to spread them out face up across the table before collecting them again and placing them into the shuffling machine. The game was on.

Directly opposite me and to the immediate left of the dealer, there sat a black man wearing lightly tinted sunglasses who I would have guessed was in his mid-thirties – he looked very composed, so we’ll refer to him simply as the Shark. He was sitting next to a slim, black-haired lady who was the only woman at the table. To my left was a bald, white European man. He was speaking what I assumed was Dutch to a dark-haired man to his left – I would later discover that they were both Danish.

The young dealer tossed the cards effortlessly, one at a time, to the nine players until we each had two cards. I nervously lifted the tips of my cards to reveal the nine of clubs and the four of hearts – a nothing hand that would be easy for me to fold, allowing me to relax and take a further sip of my beer.

A few forgettable hands passed in a similar fashion and my beer was almost empty – seemed like a good time to walk away without too much indignity after one more hand. One more hand.

I lifted the cards to see two red aces staring at me like a pair of hypnotic eyes, and they were bullets I could not let go unfired. I hoped to pick up a few extra chips before, and after, the first three community cards were dealt – five in total would eventually be dealt. To my pleasant surprise, the decision was soon made for me as, after the two Danes had folded, a middle-aged man with a full, thick, and greying beard raised one hundred euros – I’ll refer to him as Captain Birdseye, and I sincerely hoped he would not catch the fish at this table. It was a huge bet in comparison to my own stack of chips, which was roughly eighty-five euros’ worth. If I were to call, I would be all-in, and that was really all of the money I had been intending to spend on the rest of my travels.

I tried to maintain a calm exterior, but it proved even more difficult when the Shark raised a further one hundred euros and was subsequently called by the dark-haired woman next to him. I had little time to think as the next player folded and all eyes turned to face me for my decision. There was absolutely no question that I would play the hand. It was the jackpot hand: two (known as “pocket”) aces, the best hand you can start with. But my hesitation came because of the stakes. At this point in time, it would be by far the biggest single bet I had ever made, and the biggest pot by some way.

“All-in,” I announced with attempted conviction, though my heart was pounding as I tried my best to steady my hand whilst placing my chips in the centre of the table. A side-pot was to be played out with the remaining players as they still had chips to continue betting with, but all I could do was sit and watch, and hope, as the round played out.

A jack and a nine of spades with the two of diamonds – the first two cards were ominous as they presented several possibilities for hands that could all be superior to my pair of aces. Captain Birdseye raised a huge two hundred euros, and I was astonished at how casually he could toss the chips into the centre of the table and out of his grasp. It was also a worrying sign that he may have something in his hand worth that significant investment – or, I wondered, was it a staggering bluff?

The Shark did not think for very long before reluctantly sliding his cards face down towards the dealer, confirming his fold of the hand. The sole woman decided to call, at which point I saw Captain Birdseye noticeably stroking his buried jawline – was that a sign of weakness?

The dealer presented the fourth out of the five community cards: the six of hearts, which would surely have no real influence. Whatever that card meant for the players left in, it did not diminish the aggressive tactics of Captain Birdseye. He placed a further three hundred euros into the pot, which was more than the lady’s stack. She was not deterred in the slightest, and without any comment, slid her remaining stack into the pot.

The players decided not to reveal their hands before the fifth and final community card was dealt. The final card was another six; this one was clubs. To my relief, it ruled out the possibility of a flush – five cards of the same suit.

“Sir…” The dealer gave me the nod as I was in the position required to reveal their hand first, so I cautiously placed my aces face up on the table. It attracted audible approval and a number of claps from the other players and those few spectators who had gathered around the table. I hadn’t noticed them as I was so engrossed in the game.

Captain Birdseye was not impressed and revealed an ace and a jack. He’d bet extravagantly and faithfully with his one pair of jacks. The woman revealed that both of her cards were queens. Nothing that the dealer had presented gave them anything that could trump my aces, and I was about to receive over two hundred and fifty euros as my share of the bets. The lady would win the side-pot that had built up between her and Captain Birdseye, which was also quite a sum!

I was overjoyed with the win and decided another beer was in order. I planned to indulge in a few more rounds of betting and then head off to treat my fellow travellers to a few more beverages than we had originally anticipated.

“A great time to have the aces,” said the bald man in very good English with a mild Scandinavian accent.

“I certainly can’t complain,” I replied through a beaming smile.

I threw a few bets in here and there to speculate, to which the other players responded by folding. My stack suddenly appeared in far greater health than when I had first taken my seat.

I continued the friendly conversation with the bald man, who introduced himself as Karl. He was Danish and had been working in Amsterdam for a few days. He was generally more accustomed to a game of blackjack and only occasionally frequented the poker tables. I gathered that the table had more of his ilk – wealthy men and women from the world of business and commerce. And then, of course, there was me, a self-unemployed graduate from the post-mining, working-class valleys of south Wales. On this night, however, I was enjoying the novelty of going head-to-head with the high rollers. My good fortune may have earned me a bit more respect around the table, and I was more relaxed about being involved. The second beer was like golden nectar trickling with the joy of my good luck.

I was at the table for less than an hour, but it still felt like an all-night affair. A nine and ten of clubs found their way to me and I told myself that it would be the last hand. I should return to my friends, who would soon be leaving the bright lights behind for an evening meal. A relaxed, small succession of bets encouraged me to stay in the hand to see what the young dealer would conjure up for my swansong.

The jack, the queen, and the four of clubs were revealed… a flush, five cards of the same suit, right from the off. I could have punched the air with delight. As that might just have given the game away, I calmly placed thirty euros into the pot. To my disbelief, the Shark pushed all of his chips into the centre – he was all in. With that, another player, a young, blond-haired man who a waiter had referred to as Rudy, matched the bet. My heart rate rose considerably once again, and though I tried my best not to show any emotion, I have no doubt that my face was beginning to show signs of excitement.

I could not let this one go. I called the bet and placed my sum of just over three hundred euros into the pot. I rarely had that sort of money in my bank account at any one time, let alone to hand over in one single bet. I had never really considered myself to be a serious gambler and I felt like things were unfolding outside of my control. I was yet to experience the flipside of such sensations, but I was fully intending to ride the waves of fortune whilst they were going my way.

The dealer presented the king of hearts and the two of diamonds to round off the game. Rudy turned over a king and a queen of spades, and as a consequence the Shark threw his cards to the dealer, face down, in disgust. I showed my flush and Rudy shouted something in Dutch – I can’t imagine it was anything pleasant. The rest of the table and the several spectators gave another, louder round of applause. The dealer began to stack up my winnings as I stared, wide eyed, at the piles of chips in front of me.

“Not a bad evening for you, my friend.” Karl congratulated me with a wry smile as I started to do a rough calculation. The adrenaline was running too high to work out the exact sum, but I knew it was over one thousand euros. I felt absolutely elated and, after the initial shock, I could not stop myself grinning from ear to ear. I’d never had a win that compared to this in the past – I’d never had the money to even consider betting enough, nor the desire to.

The dealer congratulated me and passed on my chips. Rudy had already left the table before the next hand was dealt. I folded a few more rounds whilst finishing another beer, wished Karl all the best, and thanked the dealer for his service before gathering my chips, ready to cash in.

I could not resist spreading my good news, and despite only having had a few beers, I felt as though I was on another planet and in some kind of utopia. My friends already knew – the expression on my face told them almost everything.

“Come on then, how much?”

I placed the chips on their table. “There’s over a thousand euros there, about nine hundred or so of profit.”

I still could not stop smiling. It would definitely be a trip to remember.

I would love to say we celebrated in style in some classy bars and sought out some lively music venues, but on our second day we had a none-too-pleasant experience with a local bakery selling some rather interesting kinds of cakes.

I would be sharing the story of my wonderful stroke of luck upon my return and probably for some time to come. It’s only when reflecting on my journey that this moment becomes so much more significant. Although it was a success story, much like the first story of many gamblers, it was also the very first time I experienced the dangerous side-effects of the gambling drug: the feeling of invincibility, the frenzied ecstasy of the win regardless of the consequences on the psyche, and a taste of gambling as a very fast, easy problem-solver. It was my first taste of the many different gambling flavours that I would become quite the connoisseur of in the years to follow.