Of Big Mac & My Flying Pigs

I was at home sick today, when the news broke that Mark McGwire had admitted to using performance enhancing drugs (PEDs), specifically, steroids and human growth hormone (HGH). While the public admission is technically “news” in the sense of a new development, that Big Mac had used PEDs during his baseball career had been more or less established in my mind, at least since his bizarre Congressional testimony in 2005, if not as early as the discovery of his use of androstenedione (“andro”) during his 1998 record-setting home run duel with Sammy Sosa, or the later revelations from McGwire’s unapologetic former teammate and mega-juicer, Jose Canseco. So, concerning McGwire’s admission today, I say, so what?

That’s right, I said it. I don’t give a flying pig if McGwire finally has publicly admitted to using PEDs, since I’ve presumed for a long time he had used PEDs. But more to the point, I also don’t give a flying pig that Big Mac was on the juice. This may come as a surprise to those who know me. After all, I’m a lawyer by trade, a basketball referee for nearly two decades, and a rules nit at nearly every card game I play. Shouldn’t I care more that McGwire was cheating?

Well, you’re probably right. On some level, I really ought to care about the cheating aspect of PED use. After all, as a kid in the late 70s and 80s, I grew up learning that the only reason we good Americans could ever lose in the Olympics to those evil East Germans, Soviets, or other assorted “Commies” was because the bad guys were all doping. Of course, in the late 80s and early 90s, we found out that American Olympians were also doping. We also found out that PED usage was rampant in the NFL, college football, the Tour de France, swimming, boxing, heck just about every sport. At some point, any serious sports fan learned to assume PED usage is pervasive in sports, and that testing for PEDs is, at best, a crude method for keeping PED usage in check and behind the scenes, but no more effective at preventing a motivated athlete from juicing up than a purity ring is at stopping a motivated teen from “rounding the bases”.

So please forgive me for not jumping on the moral outrage bandwagon we’re sure to hear in the sports media the next few weeks, and again when the Baseball Hall of Fame ceremonies roll around. Because here’s the dirty little not-so-secret:  PED use was and is widespread in major league baseball, just like most other sports. The same sports media people who pontificate on the evils of PED usage are the same media members who ignored reporting the issue for years because they didn’t want to jeopardize their access to sports stars. And we fans are likewise in no position to wax righteously indignant—we saw players getting bigger and faster, we saw records topple like dominos, yet we didn’t want to look too closely at how the sports sausage was being made, so long as it was served to us in a tasty stew of exciting highlight reel plays and home team success. So when discussing Big Mac—or A-Rod, Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, or any of the other big names of the era—let’s simply acknowledge the obvious:  they were juiced men playing against other juiced men. In evaluating their achievements, compare them to each other, not against players from some prior era. If their achievements relative to the players of their own era merit their inclusion in the Hall of Fame, so be it. Let them in, and move along.

As for what message might be sent by rewarding athletes who flouted the PED rules, well once again I don’t give a flying pig if athletes decide to juice up. PEDs certainly pose health risks, but grown men can decide for themselves whether the risk is worth the reward, much as we allow people to decide whether to pursue any risky occupation or activity. Setting a good example for kids sounds like a valid concern, but the concern is misplaced. High school and college players shouldn’t be permitted to use PEDs because most PEDs are versions of hormones whose effect on adolescents is unknown and may well be dangerous to their health. But we don’t ban adults from using tobacco or alcohol simply because they may be dangerous to children. Protecting kids from the risks of PEDs properly falls on parents and coaches, not on professional sports leagues or Olympic athletes.

The one group of people who have a valid objection to the use of PEDs on the professional level is that group of players who wish to play but do not want to risk the use of PEDs. To maintain a competitive equality with PED-using players, non-users may feel pressured to take PEDs they would otherwise avoid. The answer to this issue lies solely with the players themselves—if players don't want PEDs, the unions should express the desire of their memberships by consenting to mandatory drug testing with strong sanctions for violation of PED rules, and encouraging its members to self-police its own ranks through anonymous reporting of fellow players violating the PED rules. If PEDs are truly a problem in sports, then it is up to the athletes themselves to show the will to crack down on PEDs in a meaningful way, for the benefit of all the players.

As for me, so long as the players don’t care about PEDs, neither will I.

A Classic Poker Horror Story

For those of you who enjoy Edgar Allen Poe stories, the geniuses over at Melted Felt have uncovered a lost short story by Poe that really captures how my opponents feel when I'm at their table:

The Fall Of The Pair Of Aces...

Enjoy!

The crAAKKer Effect & the Uber-Cooler

Since I have been home alone on puppy duty this weekend, I have no new poker tales to pass along. However, this is a good opportunity to break into the cellar full of canned poker stories to illustrate what I will refer to as "the crAAKKer effect". Essentially, the crAAKKer effect means that my presence at the table twists the laws of probability so that not only are my chances of cracking AA & KK exponentially increased, but the odds of any player having those hands cracked also dramatically increase.* To say that I've seen more truly bizarre crackings of AA & KK than your average non-Euro donk is an understatement. But, I'll let you be the judge. Shake up a martini and ponder this tale of woe:


It was winter about 4-5 years ago. I was playing 1/2 NLHE at the local casino—Prairie Meadows Racetrack, Casino, & ATM in the greater Des Moines, Iowa area (to the extent Des Moines has a "greater" area, the poker room is it). A seat opens on my table. The open seat happens to be the 3 seat (end of the table), and is right next to the cage. New guy walks over, puts his rack of $300 in red down, posts, and starts to take off his coat. Local maniac raises to $15. New guy (still standing) looks at his cards and raises to $60. Folds back to maniac who pushes all-in, new guy snap calls. New guy shows AA, maniac has KK ... and a K flops. crAAKKed!

But wait! There's more! Oh ye of little faith ... New guy takes two steps to the cage to rebuy for $300 while being dealt in. New guy is waiting for his chips, looks at his cards, raises to $20. Folds to same maniac from prior hand, who reraises. New guy steps back from cage with his $300 rebuy, and pushes it all-in. Maniac snap calls. This time, new guy shows KK and maniac shows AA! Board runs out blanks, and new guy storms out of the room, down two buy-ins in two hands without ever even sitting down at the table! crAAKKed!

So, anyone still doubting the crAAKKer Effect? Care to play AA or KK at my table? Didn't think so ...

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*For those of you familiar with the Robert Jordan Wheel of Time series of novels, you might say that I'm a poker ta'veren.

Puppies vs. Toddlers

As some of you may know, I bought the spousal unit a boxer puppy for our third anniversary this Fall. Berkeley has gone from being a cute little ball of fun to a mischievous 30 pound bundle of raw energy and excitement. Although Berk has changed our lives way more than I ever would’ve thought possible, I really can only barely remember life without him—which makes me sound scarily similar to my brother talking about his first child, my adorable niece Lucy.


This past Christmas, I was able to travel to Salt Lake City to visit Lucy (and her parents). Lucy is just shy of two years old, and is the early stages of the “walking and talking” phase. She may be the happiest, most lovable kid I’ve ever seen, constantly smiling, giggling, and hugging one of her parents, or one of her three dogs (two real and very tolerant dogs, and an oversized stuffed animal we gave her for her first birthday—who is also remarkably tolerant).

During my few days in Salt Lake City with Lucy, I was struck by the many similarities between parenting a toddler and raising a puppy. For example:

* First puppies and first kids get way too many toys, but they love them all.

* Puppies and toddlers love their owners/parents unquestionably—even when they get mad and pout, it rarely lasts longer than a few minutes.

* Puppies and toddlers have unlimited energy —until they suddenly crash for a nap, often in what appears to be an awkward position.

* Puppies and toddlers are at their most mischievous when they are quiet—too quiet. Nothing causes owners/parents more alarm than when their puppy/toddler is not in sight and can’t be heard.

* Puppies and toddlers have an amazingly fun and uncomplicated world view. Play, eat, drink, pee, poop, hug, sleep, repeat. Not a bad life.

* Anything the owner/parent is eating or drinking is automatically assumed to be better than whatever the puppy/child has been given to eat—and pouting and begging will ensue.

* Anything that falls to the floor is something that must be tasted, if not eaten outright.

* Owners and parents with their first puppy or kid take way too many photos and annoy their friends with way too much talk about their puppy/kid. (Exhibit A being this post!)

Of course, there is one major difference between puppies and toddlers—When you want to go play poker for a couple of hours, you can’t put your kid in a kennel!

The Ironman Planneth

Plans for IMOP-V are quickly setting up like lime Jello around mixed fruit. For those of you not in the know, the Ironman of Poker (IMOP) is an annual early March outing for a group of Iowa degenerates who enjoy hitting Vegas for an extended weekend of poker, drinking, sports-investing, and general degeneracy. This will be the 5th annual outing, and will have as its theme something derivative of The Hangover. Most of the regular events are certain to return, including the ugly jacket dinner, tilting Euro D-Bags, and outlandish prop bets. You can read about last year’s adventures—including the infamous Meat Tank—in the official trip reports, posted as always on All Vegas Poker (IMOP-IV Part I; Part 2).


The big twist this year is the addition of a team competition, made possible by five, count ‘em, five newbies/pledges who were so enthralled by the IMOP trip reports, they just couldn’t possibly live without joining in the hijinks this year. The teams will be captained by the only three living IMOP champions—Santa Claus (IMOP cruise director and reigning IMOP champ), Lucky (our token leprechaun and inaugural IMOP champ), and yours truly (the only two-time and back2back champion). The captains drafted their teams at Santa’s New Years’ poker game:

Team Cowbell
Captain—Grange95
Barbie—Cash game degenerate, perpetrator of the Meat Tank
Sahara—Tournament assassin, vampire, “White Doug”
Pledge “Jim”—2/4 LHE poker-drinker and sports investor

Team Tyson’s TigersCaptain—Santa Claus
Pledge “Yaks”—Designated rookie nit
Pledge “River Joe”—Tournament specialist and suckout artist
Pledge “ATC”—Designated Scandinavian degenerate

Team Floories
Captain—Lucky
Bonnie—Designated drinker and Lucky’s bodyguard
DIA—Team nit and Bonnie’s keeper
Pledge “Colt”—Hopefully recovered from football injury by March

In years past, wacky hijinks have included:

* Tilting Scandis & Mother-F’n Ukrainians
* Being tackled at the poker table by a drunk Brit
* The “Meat Tank”
* Finger rapes at the Fashion Mall
* Bonnie losing a battle to the sheets
* Tilting of Uber-D-Bag “Sherminator”
* Water being thrown in crotches

Once again, our adventures will be based out of the Venetian, but may extend any distance an Ironman is able to drunkenly stumble. Santa is expected to release the official list of sanctioned events and prop bets in the near future, so watch this space for more details as the magical date* approaches!

* IMOP-V officially runs Thursday, March 4 through Monday, March 8, but yours truly and a couple of other degenerates will enjoy a preseason outing on Wednesday, March 3.