Poker ace

By M. Scott Carter
The Norman Transcript

April 13, 2008 11:52 pm

— Shining brightly against the blue Oklahoma sky, the neon beckons.
Like a huge, glowing snake the neon wraps itself around the building, reflecting its yellow, red and purple off the vast expanse of black asphalt.
In the center of this mammoth, paved desert, sits the casino — Riverwind —an angular, curving building that would seem more at home in a “Jetsons” cartoon.
This is where the adults come to play.
On this Friday evening, the asphalt desert is covered quickly; cars, buses, RVs and the occasional motorcycle all lumber through the gates and make a temporary home here.
Like children at an amusement park, the drivers scurry for the entrance.
This will be their night, their big win.
Or, if they are more of the tourist type, they play a few slots, grab a bite to eat and go hear Julio Iglesias.
Inside, a million colored lights dance in the dark, cool atmosphere.
Against the stale, faint scent of cologne and cigarette smoke, the chirps and boinks of the gaming machines fill the air.
The players are here.
Seated in front of the acres of computer monitors, they push button after button, each hoping to leave here with more money than when they came.
The chirps and flashes continue.
It’s early Friday evening, and the floor is crowded.
n n n
Off toward the east end of this mammoth, snake-like building, there’s a room edged by frosted glass and furnished with padded chairs and oval tables covered in green felt.
Large computer screens hang over the room’s entrance like Cerberus guarding the river Styx. The screens display the names of the room’s more important occupants, the players.
Underneath the screens are the regulars; the dealers, the crew, and a dozen or so leggy cocktail waitresses in tight, short, black skirts.
They, too, are here for the players.
They’ll deal cards, exchange chips, ferry drinks back and forth and, on occasion, even flirt.
It’s called the Poker Room.
And it’s here, on almost any given night, that you’ll find Greg Scallan.
Only Greg Scallan doesn’t come for the lights.
He’s not interested in the slot machines.
And, he’s not really paying attention to the pretty, dark-haired cocktail waitress.
Greg Scallan is focused.
He’s here to play poker.
Because poker is what Greg Scallan does for a living.
n n n
He didn’t start playing poker; he started out bowling.
Between games, Scallan and a few buddies would play cards; no big deal, just a few friends killing some time and having fun.
After a while, the poker games increased.
And before long, Scallan was playing cards several nights each week.
“It was just something to do, we were hanging out and playing between games,” he said. “Then I began to play more.”
At first, he wasn’t that good.
He’d win a few games, but he lost more.
“I was just playing” he said. “I really wasn’t thinking about what all was going on.”
But Scallan was too competitive to enjoy losing for very long.
“I went out and bought some books on poker,” he said. “And I read them cover to cover.”
He learned to watch his friends and how they played.
He learned when to bet and when to fold.
He learned about odds and strategy.
And he learned to apply all that knowledge with his inate ability to know when he was being bluffed.
And, thus, he began to win.
“After a while, my friends didn’t want to play that much with me anymore,” he said. “Heck the wouldn’t even tell me where the next game was.”
But by this time, Scallan was hooked.
So he went looking for other games
He sought out competition.
He went “underground.”
“I found several underground games,” he said. “And I went there.”
Those games — usually operated out of a rented house — were like a mini-casino. There were drinks, food and lots and lots of poker.
It was also illegal.
“I didn’t play where there was underage drinking or drugs or anything like that,” he said.
“I didn’t want any problems with the law. I just came to play poker and to learn to play better.”
It worked.
n n n
By 5 p.m., the crowds have arrived. A new weekend brings new customers — from across the country.
And, for the record, these are not people of the James Bond crowd. This isn’t like the movies; this is your more basic selection of humanity. There’s nary a tuxedo in sight and the women here are not wearing floor-length formals with furs.
Not tonight.
The players at Greg Scallan’s table represent the more humble slice of mankind.
There are eight men — most of them look retired — and one, granny-style woman; everyone’s wearing tennis shoes. Of the two youngest at the table, the redhead looks more like a Irish altar boy than a poker player and the other guy, sitting two seats away, was sporting several weird tattoos, just a few teeth and a bright red dew rag.
At the south end, dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt and a ball cap, 31-year-old Greg Scallan doesn’t look like a poker player, either.
There’s no obnoxiously big gold jewelry.
He’s not in a tux and he’s not wearing sun glasses.
Instead, he’s friendly, easygoing and very disarming.
It’s all part of his strategy.
“I try to make sure that people have fun,” Scallan says. “I try to find tables where people are talking, where they are easygoing and where they don’t play well.”
So Scallan seeks out those who think they can play, but can’t. He’s looking for the dude (or woman) with little skill and lots of cash.
Remember, he’s trying to make a living here.
Once he finds the right table, Scallan makes himself comfortable. He seems more like the uncle you haven’t seen in a while than your competition. Before long, he’ll know your name, laugh with you and, over the course of the evening. play you for every dollar you have.
He’s young.
He’s talented.
And he’s good.
But he’s not a big roller.
He doesn't make $5,000 bets; instead Scallan plays the $3 to $6 limit version of Texas Hold’em — a type of poker where each player is dealt two cards face down and the dealer turns over five other cards which are used by all players.
Scallan’s goal is to make the best hand possible by combining his two cards with three from the table.
It’s not easy; especially when everyone else sitting near you has the same idea.
But, Scallan isn’t just any player.
He’s a professional.
He’s here because poker is the way he makes his living — $6 at a time.
Sure there may be other styles and other games which cost thousands to join and feature unlimited betting.
Scallan avoids those.
He prefers the small end.
It’s here, he says, that he’s comfortable.
“The unlimited stuff isn’t for me,” he said. “You can lose everything you have in one hand. That’s not what I want to do.”
n n n
The dealer smiles. She stacks the cards, then pushes a button on the table. A small trap door opens, and from underneath, a new deck of cards rises to the top. She takes the newly risen deck and replaces it with an old one.
The door closes and the old cards disappear somewhere beneath the table.
The dealer smiles again, then smoothly, in a fluid, almost dance-like motion, she deals each player their cards.
Scallan sits patiently, waiting.
He teases the granny lady at the end of the table; then he makes a quick glance at his cards, the dealer, and a few of the others.
After a moment, he tosses his cards back to the dealer.
Not this time.
“The cards weren’t right for me,” he said.
He’ll fold early dozens of times during the night.
He’ll also work to keep the conversation going and sip his water. Throughout the evening he’ll watch the granny-lady at the other end. It’s obvious they have a history. There’s some respect and a good deal of intensity between the two.
Scallan acknowledges this.
“She’s good,” he says. “She’s real good. Usually I try not to play against her; and I think she tries to avoid me.”
The players change.
To his right, a rotund man in a red shirt gathers his chips and exits, and his accountant will probably tell him not to come back. A short time later, a new name appears on the monitor. Another player, one Scallan knows, appears. The new player purchases his chips, then he and Scallan exchange small talk.
More cards are dealt.
Over the next few minutes the new guy will glance at his cards repeatedly.
Scallan only looks at his once.
He places a round, white $1 chip on his cards and stacks three other near the center of the table.
Several other players fold, tossing their cards back to the dealer.
The dealer turns the flop.
Another bet.
Another player folds.
A fourth card — the turn — is dealt.
Another bet.
The final card — the river — shows.
This time, the cards favored Scallan.
He smiles as the dealer pushes a large pile of chips his way — it’s a nice pot, he says. At $1 each, the chips probably total $40 to $50.
At the end of the table the granny-lady narrows her eyes.
Scallan, briefly, returns the glance, then continues his performance.
Over the course of the next few hours, the number of his chips — stacked in small, neat towers — will fluctuate, but he’ll be okay.
He’ll leave with more than he came in with.
“I did okay,” he said. “Not too bad. But the table ended up tight. There wasn’t a lot of betting, there wasn’t a lot of money in pot.”
For Scallan, some nights are like that.
n n n
Part sociologist, part statistician and part actor, Scallan doesn’t “play” poker. For him, there is very little involved that would equal play. This is his job. And it’s a job he takes seriously.
Like a CEO of a major company, Scallan plans his strategy, studies his competition and even documents his successes and failures.
“I keep a log of how I played every night,” he says. “I write down who I played against, how they played.”
It’s how he improves his game.
“Poker is the way I make ends meet,” he says.”It’s the way I pay the bills.”
It is, simply, his job.
And Scallan is looking to expand.
Right now, he’s seeking sponsors that would allow him to play in more tournaments and he’s teaching.
Scallan is offering lessons for the players ranging from the beginner to the seasoned veteran who wants to learn new strategies.
“I don’t mind sharing what I’ve learned,” he said. “I’m willing to teach people who want to learn.”
n n n
It’s late now.
The once blue Oklahoma sky has faded from orange to black. At Riverwind, the neon seems to fill the night with an unnatural selection of blues, yellows and reds.
Inside, the people come, the bets are placed and the machines make noise.
And there, in the Poker Room, \ Scallan is playing one more hand.
Sure, he didn’t make a killing tonight — but there will be other nights.
And he will be back.
He’ll find the right table, analyze the players, then buy some chips.
And, once again, he’ll play.
Because for Greg Scallan, this job doesn't have the thousand-dollar payoff. For Greg Scallan, his pay is earned each night, hand-by-hand, $6 at a time.