Like most men of my age, once a week I sit around a table with a bunch of friends and play poker. It’s, at the same time, relaxing and stressful, rewarding and frustrating.
We’re usually 7 or so. Most are funny characters that put a bit of life to proceedings.
But while we all contribute to the atmosphere, only one man stands out: Omar.
Stocky and bearded, he looks like a monster but has the smile of a baby that can illuminate a room and the emotional intelligence of a small child. No English or Arabic for him- like any Lebanese guy I’ve ever met who’s grown up in the Ivory Coast, Omar speaks nothing apart from a thick broken African-French.
Omar is probably the only person in our group who comes to these gatherings with the intense desire to compete. While our priority is to have fun, he wants to win. More to the point- he wants to make money.
This leads to him taking the afternoon a lot more seriously than all of us. He’ll only play very good hands for example. When he does play it’s your cue to fold. For Omar to actually put some of his chips on the table it means he’s holding something so powerful, he can blow away the Green Berets.
He takes losses with the same good graces as John McEnroe. After a losing hand, he’ll spend minutes looking at the heavens, shaking his head and whispering to an imaginary friend (we call him Youssef): “Putain, mon gars, le flop, sa mere, je te jure, la chance, Omar, Omar, tu es nul, nul, tu es le plus nul au monde, sa mere la pute…”
There are cities in Greece that have recovered faster emotionally from losses than Omar.
He wins sometimes though. And that’s when the highlight of his week comes: he’s never happier than when he’s just won a big hand and has lots of chips in front of him. He arranges them with the symmetry of an architect, looks at them with longing and love and defends them with the same ferocity as a lioness defends hers cubs. And then he spends at least 10 minutes refusing the play a hand while he counts the number of chips he has out loud.
Omar’s never had a non winning hand. Every time he folds pre flop, he wins. As soon as the flop opens, he hits his hand on the table and shouts” Je l’avais mon gars, sa mere! Je gagne, je gagne!” He scrambles to find the cards he’s thrown away to show to people next to him, all while the guys still playing the hand shout at him to shut up.
Concurently, every time somebody loses a hand, he tells them what they should have done. It’s gotten to the point where we’re seriously begging him to do a Dvd to share his wisdom with the entire globe.
His desire to win is so great that we always suspect him of cheating. But any time we think we’ve caught him he replies in his thick African accent “Moi je triche? T’es fou toi, je te gifle.” Or sneers at you and threatens “Ohhhhh. Je te boxe gars!”
To be honest, even if he does cheat (and it’s highly likely), the entire point of proceedings is to have fun. And by Omar being himself, he unwittingly entertains you more than any winning poker hand could. Truthfully, if I had a choice of me winning a big hand, or seeing Omar lose one, I’d much rather Omar lose just to sit back and watch his reaction.
It’s a lot more entertaining.