The Game That Didn't Count

There was a fellow in here some years back who would not play unless something was riding on it. Fine player. Smooth stroke, good head for angles. But offer him a friendly rack, just for the pleasure of it, and he would look at you like you had offered him a glass of warm water. If it is free, he used to say, it does not count.

I never argued with him, because at his age I was him. On the road they called me The Closer, and I liked hearing it more than I ever liked the money. That is the part I could not have told you then. The cash was never the point. The cash was the scoreboard, and the scoreboard was the only mirror I trusted.

Win, and I was somebody. Walk out of a room in Toledo with a man's week in my pocket and I stood a full inch taller at the diner the next morning. Lose, and I was nobody, and being nobody was not something I could sit with, so I would find another game fast. Not to get the money back. To get me back.

It took a lot of years and a lot of empty rooms to see what was wrong with that arrangement. If your worth rides on the next result, you do not have any worth of your own. You are renting it, one bet at a time, and the rent goes up every time you lose.

The fellow I mentioned, I finally got him to play me a free game one slow Tuesday. He won, and he stood there afterward looking almost confused, like he was waiting for the part that made it matter. I told him it already had. He played that game because he loved the game. That is the sturdiest reason there is.

You are not the sum of your last result, friend. You never were. And if you cannot feel that without money moving, the people at 1-800-MY-RESET understand exactly what I am describing.

The free game counts. It might be the only one that does.

Sal