He’ll Hold ‘Em and Fold ‘Em With the Best of ‘Em

I can see it now. Just the two of us left. My boss and me. It’s approaching midnight, and he’s tired. And why not? He’s got four kids and gets up early. Not me. Wide awake, feeling good, still hitting on all mental cylinders. He bets his last $5 chip. Like a cat on a ball of yarn, I pounce. Call! We turn over our cards. He’s hit a jack-high straight and starts reaching for the chips. Not so fast, bud. I flip over the queen-high straight.

If life truly is purpose-driven, one of mine is to win a poker tournament. I’m not sure how that will happen, because I’m too chicken to enter any of them. Maybe it’s because the last time I lost a tournament, it was a spelling bee when I was 11, and I started crying.

And yet, opportunity now beckons.

On the first Friday night in September, some officemates are putting together a Texas hold ‘em tournament. They’re talking about a table of eight, and, knowing I’ve gotten hooked on TV poker and perhaps sensing I’m an easy mark, they’ve invited me.

I’ve played in a few friendly poker games, but none in the last several years. And never a night of Texas hold ‘em, the current rage.

I’m also a lousy card player. But surely all the hours in the living-room chair in the last few years watching Texas Dolly and Johnny Chan have taught me something.

On the off chance it hasn’t, I called up Jonathan Waessil, a Garden Grove man I interviewed a few months ago after he had filed suit against the World Poker Tour. I remember him saying he’d played in a couple hundred tournaments in his younger days and had even won some.

I phoned him Friday and explained my plight. “How do I beat them?” I asked.

“That’s a good question,” Waessil said, not knowing a thing about any of my opponents’ playing style or, for that matter, mine. “My first advice is: Always have the cards before you really wager any serious money. You’re better off with winning cards than without them.”

Uh, thanks, but let’s assume I’m not dealt pocket aces or kings during the evening. “Are you saying I should just wait for good cards?” I asked.

“Not necessarily,” Waessil said. “There are things you can do. Watch what each player does. Watch their physical makeup and the amount they bet and how they handle their cards or shuffle their cards around. There are a thousand different tips that come from individual players that tell you where they are with their hand.”

I know the people who’ll be playing, and they’re deceiving by nature. But how to spot deception at the poker table? “A lot of times,” Waessil said, “when a guy doesn’t have a hand, he’ll put his eyes down and sometimes cover his mouth. The hand over the mouth is almost a dead giveaway that a guy’s got a problem with his hand.”

On any given night, Waessil said, luck can overcome skill. “Almost everyone has a chance of winning,” he said. “Even the biggest idiot at the table -- if he’s got the cards and is a lousy player -- can win.”

All right. I’ve got a chance.

OK, I asked Waessil, what about the all-in move where you put all your chips in the pot? It’s the signature move of Texas hold ‘em.

“Let me say this about all-in,” he began. “It’s a major play and is a really deadly play, but you gotta remember that in using all-in, you’ve got to know who you’re using it against. If you’re using it against a guy with more chips, and you lose, you’re out of the game.”

Got it. I’m concerned about my table demeanor, specifically a tendency to shift awkwardly in my seat and to jabber for no reason. Waessil, who has met me in person, seemed to understand.

“The quieter you are, the better you do,” he said. “Be nice and pleasant, don’t be afraid of talk, but don’t give away anything on the hand. Remain stoic. Do you know what that means?”

I ask Waessil if I should wear sunglasses, like a lot of tourney players do so opponents can’t read their eyes. “I use them if I’m getting to the end game, the last couple of tables,” he said. “If you’re doing a home game, sunglasses do not look good. Unless you’re trying to be funny, I don’t think I’d do it.”

Is there any apparel he’d suggest? “A funky cap or hat always works,” he said. “Start with it toward the back of your head and throughout the game, bring it farther and farther down.”

Excellent. I thanked him and said goodbye.

My game plan is crystallizing: Keep my hand away from my mouth. Be stoic. Wear a funky cap.

When you think about it, it’s a pretty simple game.

Dana Parsons can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana

.parsons@latimes.com. An archive of his recent columns is at www.latimes.com/parsons.