We lie on our backs, watching the tendrils of a capacious cloud reaching out to the next ship of white. They want to take over the world. Block out the sun. Kill all life.
My 21-month-year-old daughter shouted from her position inside my armpit.
“Giraffe!”
“Good.”
I see a fish.
A pig’s face.
A hundred fathers, mothers and children run along the pathway by the side of us. Judy Garland is leaping out of my phone teaching my little girl about rainbows, lemon drops and bluebirds.
It’s a good job my wife is in bed.
She wouldn’t approve of the Bluetooth speaker wedged into my daughter’s ear, as she desperately tries to get to Oz.
“Fish!”
I think about the fathers and their daughters running down the path, hand-in-hand. I think about the warmth and love I have for my daughter as we search for animals in the clouds.
And.
Then.
Think.
Of.
My.
Dad.
Back in the 70s, fathers didn’t sit in fields staring at altocumulus. They didn’t have enough puff to run. The cigarettes stole all the air the lungs could muster.
My one abiding memory is of my father taking me to the bookies in 1986. Kids weren’t allowed inside, and the blackened windows sent you delirious with intrigue.
“What’s inside, Dad?”
“Nothing.”
He handed me a Mexico 1986 World Cup Planner, and I made my mind up from that point onwards – I wanted to be inside that secret room.
To Gamble or Not to Gamble That is The Question
In 2016, the UK Gambling Commission discovered that 48% of Brits had gambled in the four weeks before hammering the question into the center of their world, and that’s discounting the lottery, which every man and women in the UK try to deny is a form of gambling.
The world is very different, today.
People listen to Tricky, the sun murders the world ray-by-ray, we have a thousand songs in our pocket, the damned and destitute live inside red-regal phone boxes, kiss-chase is sexual harassment, cigarettes and alcohol kills over 11 million people per year, the Internet allows you to gamble while taking a dump, and the bookies windows embrace the sunlight.
68% of the 18-24 year-olds questioned in that 2016 survey said gambling ads and social media were the reasons that they decided to have a flutter.
17% of them gamble online.
43% use their mobile phones.
Back in 86, a mobile phone would have been the same price as a house, and the creation of the Internet was as likely as a Reality TV star becoming the President of the United States of America.
Ads alone find it challenging to pierce your heart, replacing valentine red with a bookie window like black squid ink. To be truly effective you need to add sight and sound into the mix. Those in the know call is ‘sensory branding.’
The first time my father allowed me to gamble was the Grand National.
The sight of the horses preparing to take off with steam bursting out of nostrils the size of geysers. The falls. The commentary. The image of my father, yellow slip in hand, head nodding, hands holding imaginary reins as if it was HE that was riding the winner.
That’s why I gambled.
That’s why I became addicted.
The Gambling Addict
In 2009, I was an Area Production Manager for a rail logistics company earning £45,000 per year, minus bonus.
I had a job for life, a company car, a Crackberry, and one of the best pensions in Britain.
I lived in one of the largest houses in my valley.
It cost me £65,000.
Outside, I parked my convertible.
Inside, lived my beautiful wife, and gorgeous little boy.
I had it all, and all that I had was a lie.
I was a zombie, going through the motions, a cog in a system called life. Sucking on hedgehogs tits, climbing through cat flaps to get into my kitchen so I could secretly crack open another bottle and vanish into another world.
The lion’s head was always knocking on my door, marking its territory by dragging its canines into the oak.
People came in.
The Bang & Olufsen on the wall burst into sound.
Oasis.
Depeche Mode.
“Enjoy The Silence.”
There was never any silence.
I became a materialist. I wanted a piano. The biggest television in the world. A Smeg fridge. A pool table. A state of the art vanishing trick.
I couldn’t keep up.
I took a deep breath, fell to the bottom of the ocean, and considered my options. Skull rings that cost the earth now anchored me to it.
I decided to gamble my way out of it.
The £65,000 mortgage became £75,000, then £85,000, and then £95,000 as my losses mounted.
As the lie gathered like litter in the street, I felt lost. Like Kevin Costner, there was no way out. My only plan was to retire at 55 and use my pension to pay off my debts. And then with my wife’s high heel heading out of the door for the final time, I decided to stop drinking and gambling.
I needed help.
I found it in the unlikeliest of places.
The Path of Least Resistance
The Atlantis Resort and Casino in the Bahamas is a playground for the rich. To get to the poker room, I had to walk through the casino. I felt like a child thrust into the maelstrom of Toys R Us for the first time.
My 17-year-old boy was by my side.
“Dad, how do you play Roulette?”
“What’s Craps?”
“Why are so many people playing slot machines?”
“Can you make money doing this?’
Too many questions.
“If you’re out for the night with the boys and end up in a casino, and you spend £50 having a laugh, then that’s what it’s all about. Gambling can be one of the most amazing experiences you can have.”
“There’s a but, coming, Dad.”
“But, if you want to buy a Gucci belt, and it costs £200, and you only have £100, and you decide to place that £100 on ‘Red’ then gambling can feel like you’re a pylon standing alone in the middle of a field with nothing but mute crows for company.
“You can double your money on red?”
And in that sentence comes the truth of gambling as my addiction. It seems like the easiest way to make money without having to work hard. As Robert Fritz would say, it’s the path of least resistance.
Poker Saved my Life
After stopping drinking in 2009, and taking a vow to never again gamble, I began playing poker.
Poker is a game where gambling is a necessity, but it shares a see-saw with a much heavier friend called skill. I found that I could still retain the buzz of gambling, knowing that I could create an edge by studying and learning more about the game.
There was no place for alcohol at the table.
Alcohol = losses.
And when the see-saw did lean more towards gambling, the same outcome transpired.
Gambling = losses.
A few years into my decision to invest more time in poker, and to limit my time in the bookies and on the tables to nothingness, I found a young man called Philipp Gruissem.
I met Gruissem at the World Series of Poker (WSOP) in Las Vegas. I held a Dictaphone in front of his face and fired questions at him like a Gatling gun. The next 15-minutes changed my life.
Philipp Gruissem: The Effective Altruist
Gruissem had earned millions of dollars playing poker, but the zero-sum feel to it had left him with the emptiness of a coal mine containing nothing but the carcasses of canaries.
The German star was ready to leave the game, travel to a third-world country, and spend his time helping people in need. Gruissem was tackling the question that permeates the cells of those that escape the system.
What.
Is.
My.
Meaning.
And.
Purpose.
Then by chance, Gruissem met a group of people coming out of Switzerland who called themselves Effective Altruists. The purpose of the group was to do as much good as they could in the world. Gruissem felt an affinity with them, and a thirst to learn more.
Gruissem realised that rather than feeling like he was clocking in and out of the poker table like a zombie-like office worker only interested in stealing reams of paper, he could use the money he earned to help reduce pain and suffering in the world.
Raising for Effective Giving (REG) emerged from Gruissem’s vernix-stained mind. Igor Kurganov joined. Liv Boeree joined. Over the years, the likes of Erik Seidel and Justin Bonomo also pledged a percentage of their donations to effective charities.
In 2014, Martin Jacobson won the WSOP Main Event and donated $250,000 to effective charities. In 2017, the high stakes pro Dan Smith raised $1.7m for the same causes.
And it’s not only the world of Effective Altruism that has turned to a form of gambling to help change the world. In 2012, the Cirque Du Soleil founder, Guy Laliberte, joined forces with the WSOP to create the $1m buy-in Big One For One Drop, and together they have raised more than $20m for the One Drop Foundation.
Put plainly; there is no other sport or game in the world that raises more money for charity than poker.
The Influence of High Stakes Poker Players
The One Drop is a tournament that combines the wealthiest amateur poker players in the world with the best professionals. Over time, something magical has happened.
A vast swathe of these wealthy businessmen and women are deeply involved in philanthropy. Talal Shakerchi, the founder of the hedge fund Meditor Capital Management, has dedicated his life to donating millions of dollars to reduce suffering in the world.
In 2012, Hedge Fund Manager and Philanthropist, David Einhorn, finished third in the inaugural One Drop tournament and donated the entirety of his $4.35m prize to charity.
You are the total of the five people you spend your time with. I used to hang around with my Dad and became a gambling addict. Imagine what happens when professional poker players hang out with the most active philanthropists in the world.
You won’t find too many high stakes poker players who have not gambled at one point or another. 69% of Brits studied by the UK Gambling Commission felt that gambling is dangerous for family life. But if you can learn to gamble responsibly, poker shows that it can be used to do tremendous good in the world.
To become a high stakes poker player, you need to learn the art of balance in all areas of life. One area is money management. Another is risk management. There are times to take controlled shots at higher stakes. It’s this structure and discipline that separates the very best in the game from the punters like me who’ve spent to much time waiting outside blacked out bookies windows like a dog chained to a post.
How to Gamble Responsibly
I don’t have all of the answers.
I could Google them for you, and create a list article, but instead, I will share what worked for me.
You need to learn to identify when you have a problem. For me, this is when the fear of losing became more consuming than the joy of winning. If you’re worried that you may lose money when gambling, then you’re investing too heavily.
Gambling is a joyful experience.
If you’re not experiencing joy, but are still gambling, then it’s a sure sign that you have a problem.
Don’t keep quiet.
Find someone you trust and share your feelings. The burden of secrecy weighed on me like a fridge full of food. In turning mute came an urgent desire to find a solution, and the only place where answers seemed to hang was in gambling.
By finding someone to talk to the burden lifts, and together you can find a different solution.
Make it as difficult as it is to gamble. Remove all forms of gambling stimuli from your senses as best you can. If you feel that poker will be a trigger for you, then don’t play. Turn down the invite to the casino, and explain openly to your friends why you need to take a raincheck from the racetrack.
Self-exclude yourself from all online bookmakers.
Back to that UK Gambling Commission study, and 6% of people took this route. And with good reason. 78% of people believed there are too many opportunities to gamble.
But most importantly, you need to wake the fuck up.
If life seems a breeze, then you are a part of the system.
Be the person who refuses to work five days a week, screws up the airline by asking for a vegan meal, and gives more then he takes.
Don’t be a cog in the system.
Question everything.
Don’t blindly accept anything.
Turn into a philosopher. Be two again and develop the ability to ask:
WHY?
And in those answers, not only will you find self-respect, love, meaning, purpose, but you will no longer feel the urge to lose yourself in the bells and whistles of the casino.
“Don’t put your last £100 on Red, son.”
“Find someone who needs it more than you. Give them half, and then have some fun with the rest.”