Friday, September 30
On Poker, Pansies, and Champs
I was just bitching to my girlfriend about how I wished I had a mountain of cash to bet on Texas this weekend. I really think we’re going to roll Missouri. She commented that she never really took to gambling; probably, she thinks, because she hates the feeling of not having money in her control.
That catalyzed a whole chain of thoughts in my head (which, I promise, will conclude with a sports thought. Even a Texas sports thought.) Her comment made me think about why I could never be a great poker player. I know the odds, I’ve read enough literature to understand the psychology of the game, I’m familiar with the general guidelines for successful play. And when the stakes are low enough, I usually win. But any time there’s any real money on the line, I might as well not play. I lose every time. Every time I’ve played live at a casino, plopping $300 of my money down in front of me, I tighten up like a scared little girl and leak my chips away, one by one. Or ten by ten. You get the idea.
The reason for it, I realized, and the reason why I’ve never been able to get into sports betting, either, despite my belief that I’d be good at it, is the fact that the terrible feeling that accompanies losing my money is far stronger than the good feelings that accompany winning money. When I play poker with any substantial amount of money at stake, I play to avoid losing more than I play to win.
In other words (see, I told you we’d get here), I’m a Chris Simms poker player, and not a Vince Young poker player. I crumple to the ground like a wilted flower to avoid the big hit instead of risking getting crunched for a chance to win. And Simms? When there’s a lot at stake? I don’t have to tell you how those stories end.
That catalyzed a whole chain of thoughts in my head (which, I promise, will conclude with a sports thought. Even a Texas sports thought.) Her comment made me think about why I could never be a great poker player. I know the odds, I’ve read enough literature to understand the psychology of the game, I’m familiar with the general guidelines for successful play. And when the stakes are low enough, I usually win. But any time there’s any real money on the line, I might as well not play. I lose every time. Every time I’ve played live at a casino, plopping $300 of my money down in front of me, I tighten up like a scared little girl and leak my chips away, one by one. Or ten by ten. You get the idea.
The reason for it, I realized, and the reason why I’ve never been able to get into sports betting, either, despite my belief that I’d be good at it, is the fact that the terrible feeling that accompanies losing my money is far stronger than the good feelings that accompany winning money. When I play poker with any substantial amount of money at stake, I play to avoid losing more than I play to win.
In other words (see, I told you we’d get here), I’m a Chris Simms poker player, and not a Vince Young poker player. I crumple to the ground like a wilted flower to avoid the big hit instead of risking getting crunched for a chance to win. And Simms? When there’s a lot at stake? I don’t have to tell you how those stories end.
Vince Young is different, thank God, and he’s the reason I believe, finally, for the first time, that we’ve got a real shot this year. Even against USC, should we be fortunate enough to make it that far. The kid’s a champ. Chris Simms, like me, is not.
--PB--
Comments:
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Three years after the fact, people are still trying to find any way possible to piss all over Chris Simms.
It gets old.
It gets old.
J Mayer
Your dissatisfaction with the Applewhite mentions and love for Chris Simms seems disproportionably strong; do you have some kind of personal vendetta to Applewhite or relationship with Chris?
Your dissatisfaction with the Applewhite mentions and love for Chris Simms seems disproportionably strong; do you have some kind of personal vendetta to Applewhite or relationship with Chris?
No, not at all. In fact, I think I'm one of the very few who think that both Major Applewhite and Chris Simms were very good quarterbacks. I don't see why the whole Simms-Applewhite thing has to be an either/or proposition for so many.
We can all agree that Mack's handling of the two quarterbacks was extremely shoddy, which, I think undercut each guy's confidence level. That, obviously, didn't help either one.
It just gets tiring to hear Major held up like a god and Chris constantly being lambasted when both of them deserve to be mentioned as top Longhorn quarterbacks.
We can all agree that Mack's handling of the two quarterbacks was extremely shoddy, which, I think undercut each guy's confidence level. That, obviously, didn't help either one.
It just gets tiring to hear Major held up like a god and Chris constantly being lambasted when both of them deserve to be mentioned as top Longhorn quarterbacks.
Statistically Chris Simms is a very good quarterback, maybe even one of the best at Texas. And if I needed to beat the snot out of Baylor, I'd have no problem handing him the football. But he performed abysmally in the games that defined his college career. The Oklahoma games, the Colorado debacle, etc. In the games that he should have won, he did. But in the games that he needed to win, he folded. For a quarterback to be great he has to perform memorably in important games, and unfortunately Simms' performances were the wrong kind of memorable.
Jason, I do agree with you on the point that I think the past is dredged up a bit too much on this blog. That said, I think this time it's fairly relevant. He's just trying to make that point that, after suffering through Peyton Manning, uh… I mean Simms, and his inability to win the big one, we Texas fans now have our Tee Martin. It’s a nice feeling to finally have a guy at QB with heart, guts and jaw-dropping talent all at the same time instead of guys who either don't have the tools (Brown, Walton, Applewhite, Mock)or who just fold like a little girl under pressure (Simms).
- Eric
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- Eric
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