Expresso, chip clicks and that crazy "one out": my poker life in Lyon this week

♣️ Before containment: poker was just Hollywood

Who really played poker, apart from Brad Pitt and three tired cowboys in the movies Not me... at least, not until 2020 and the great lock-in. Everyone stuck at home, and my buddies started talking about online tournaments the way they talk about meditation apps or sourdough bread. I'd played cards with my grandparents (especially belote and that mysterious Battle with the made-up rules, I'm sure Grandma cheated), but poker Never.

Then, solitude. A bottle of Côtes du Rhône, a free 10 EUR* bonus, and suddenly I'm in the hypnotic swamp of online rooms. PokerStars, Winamax, PMU... flashing avatars and behind them, strangers perhaps in their underpants, eating an old couscous, bluffing on 12 tables at once.

The first adrenaline rush - winning a shot with a pair of ladies, without knowing why or how exactly - hooked me. A need to be smarter, or just to feel something sharp and crazy in the night.

Okay, that's enough flashback. Let's move on to the chaos.

♣️ This week: Freefall and a heroic call (plus a bonus that made me laugh out loud)

I didn't sleep on Monday. I'd started this "rake race" because Winamax had tricked me with a neon green banner promising "crazy rewards". Except that in real life, the rakeback always looks super generous, until you realize that you have to grind nine million micro-limit hands (plus sell a kidney) to get a single euro. The real "gift" A t-shirt and bonus euros with conditions worthy of an international lawyer.

A little anecdote: My buddy Rémy, who believes in some very weird stuff, swears that you always have to play on Fridays with an odd number of tabs open and a coin in your left shoe. He lost three buy-ins on a Thursday and still blames the coin.

I wanted to test it, but I didn't have a coin and I like the six tabs. Come what may.

♣️ Bonuses, scams and nonsense

Let's talk about bonuses: they're like scratch cards, the promise is stronger than the payout. This week, I had a "mystery chest" on PokerStars. They guaranteed a prize inside: as a result, a virtual sticker and a 1 EUR* tournament ticket for a turbo-lottery with... 12,000 players. Probability of winning Count on an appearance by an ex at Carrefour on Monday.

The best bonus I've ever had Winamax threw me a 40 EUR* freebet during Halloween, and all the skeleton avatars were folding in front of my 3-bets like dominoes. Pure luck. Fake bonuses Oh dear, beware of the "instant cash"; look out for the word "wagering condition"-hidden like the final boss.

A false promotion: a room offered me the "Petite Chanson" bonus, you had to type Edith Piaf lyrics in the chat to unlock a ticket. Only in France.

♣️ Frustrations, bulk tips, and how to not play like a fool

Don't click on "all-in" without checking the mat size. First piece of advice from experience - muscle memory makes you click too fast. I called an all-in with bottom pair, in the middle of the night, because my cat jumped on the space bar. She's been banned from home poker ever since.

When your luck takes a turn for the worse and you keep on playing, convinced that the universe owes you a good river... the symbols turn the wrong way. The little token animation becomes a cyclone of bad luck. All the basic avatars (the mustachioed one, the not-so-fresh lion, the pixelated unicorn) seem to be playing jokes on you.

Uncovered: If you hide your screen during an all-in and wait before looking at the result, you lose. always. Seven times out of seven.

And the nicknames! Last night I had "Julien1978_OL" (hardcore Olympique Lyonnais fan) and "MamieDuPoker" (Poker Granny) - quite a nickname. I folded a full house against a mini-relance river, out of sheer cowardice. The chat exploded into "lol" and "mdr", and I began to wonder if Mamie wasn't really my grandmother in a crypto session.

♣️ Big tops and big losers (so humiliating it's funny)

So here comes the sweaty moment.

Tuesday. Three strong coffees. Messy screen: a 5 EUR* rebuy, a micro SNG, and the big satellite for Sunday. The air is heavy, as if there were too much nostalgia and not enough hope.

Two hours later, the strategy is gone. I'm short-stacked at the final table: 146 EUR* to win. I'm looking at a mismatched king-ten, surrounded by three furious fools. The cat's laughing, French clichés and rotten English. A queen on the flop, they're betting hard, I want to let go... but I have a biting intuition engraved in my brain: he's bluffing.

Long story short: I call with king-high. Their bluff instantly exposed. I collect the monster pot. Panicked, I spill the cup, forget the "next hand" for ten minutes. And I ship the tournament. Best win of the year, maybe of my life. Strange sensation: hot and electric, like something a bit forbidden.

It's incredible what you can experience at a crescendo, with no sleep, just the light of a king out of nowhere.

Afterwards: shame. Thursday, another final. This time, I'm in blind with the ten. I overanalyze everything. I miss the crucial hand, heating up some cold lasagne. Skipped hand, lost chips, knee in the table, swearword that scares off the neighbor (who does Edith Piaf all over again). Physical and moral pain. I wanted to move to a cave and play solitaire.

♣️ Tokens, symbols and all those weird grigris that give magic

Chips - virtual or real - fascinate me. I keep a lucky chip from the Part-Dieu casino on my keyboard, even though I never win there. If I put it on tails before a session, I sometimes bluff with nothing.

Online is all about the little icons. The "raise" arrow, the stirring of the cat, the "BOOM" when you win a pot. New badges make me laugh; I hoard them like childhood pogs. Worthless, except for morale.

Another weird habit: espresso in the pot before big tournaments. It doesn't really help (it often makes me nervous, I click away), but the smell reminds me of family nights, of vigils, of being up too late for things that matter - or not.

Emojis drive me crazy (the tilted clown in particular). But once, an opponent sent me a flower after a big bad beat. And that calmed things down a bit. It's not always war.

♣️ Strategy, or how to play at level 9000 of intuition, or just pretend.

Poker is bluffing, but more than that, it's people. The patterns, the panic. The way someone (even online) blocks, tanks the timebank, throws in a "GL" for good measure.

Sometimes it's psychological, sometimes you click the wrong key but it passes for genius. One day I'll write "Strategies invented after losing three rents and eating noodles". Volume 2: "How not to tilt when the other types 'sorry' after a bad beat."

The key: vary. Be unpredictable, change like you're avoiding the streetcar in Bellecour. Limp to the button, then 4-bet wild the next hand. Image, but not too much - your opponents won't believe it either.

♣️ It's fading: flashing symbols, cold coffee, and I feel like I'm going back.

Almost morning in Lyon. My eyes are dry, the window is this weird gray-dawn, and if I force it, I can see the basilica in the distance, out of focus. On the table, only crumbs, and luck as a joke.

But... somewhere, a freeroll raises. Maybe some pixelated clown will bluff me again with a high king and a bonus sticker.

I'll probably sign up. By the way, I put the coin in the shoe (hush, Rémy!)... The computer recovers a little battery. Come on, one more hand...