As I pull into Metrowalk to escape the Ortigas traffic, I take note of the restaurants in the place. I smile, seeing myself a few hours later: my wallet heavier with my winnings, and happily wolfing down an expensive meal.

I walk towards my destination. Hidden behind a plain door on the second floor, the Metro Card Club beckons anyone who wants to feel the thrill of the gamble, the rush of the cards. My own father has come here several times.

Now it’s my turn.

Chips and stakes

I open the door to a hive of activity similar to a professional casino. I’m told about the different tables to play at—from friendly tables with minimum bets (or blinds) of P10 to P20, to the ultra-high stakes tables of P500 to P1,000 blinds.

As I approach a cheaper table, I see one of my friends, Tito Cosejo, a junior. He waves hello before going to another table. I’m surprised to see him here, but not that surprised. Tito is, in his own words, “laking sugarol (a born gambler).”

“I bet on anything—billiards, tong its, pusoy, cockfighting,” says Tito. “In high school, I started watching World Poker Tour. That was my first exposure to poker. My friends and I then set up some small tournaments with cash prizes.”

Last year, Tito discovered Metrowalk’s Metro Card Club. “I heard it from friends, bali-balita na may (rumors that there is a) poker place. At first I was being stopped at the door, but I registered with a fake age,” he says. “After that, I had no problems.”

Settling into my seat, I see that I’m going to have problems. The stacks of chips that my opponents have are like towers compared to the measly pile worth P500 in front of me. “It’s hard to play at a table with high stacks,” Tito says. “Even if you bluff, they just call everything—they can afford it. My first two months here, I lost P10,000.”

I gulp down my fears, and the game starts. I throw in my first chips.

The allure of poker

I eagerly anticipate the first round of action, but I’m dealt forgettable cards and immediately fold. I observe the bets coming in and the satisfied smiles of the winners as they rake in their chips. Watching the game, I see why this place is such a hook.

It’s my first time playing with real money. Each chip could be a bill in my wallet, giving the game a different thrill. “When I first played here, it was pretty scary,” says junior Carlo Roman, another student who enjoys playing at the club. “You feel like everyone just wants to take your money. But after playing for a while, I was able to relax.”

This relaxation obviously helped him—he went home P300 richer on his first day. Carlo sees this as the allure of poker.

“It’s almost like a trap,” he says. “When you win, you want to win more. When you lose, you want to make up for it. When there’s no action, you want action.”

There are limits, however, to how far this thrill can take you. After a few losses, it starts to hurt. “This game can be very cruel,” says Larry*, a businessman and executive I met at another table. A poker player since he was a kid—“I have four brothers, and we used to play a lot with my dad”—it’s no wonder he has much knowledge of the game.

A frequent player at the club, his credentials include a top 25 finish on the Asian Poker Tour. “It can be good,” he says. “But if people see this as a replacement for a career, or as an easy way out, it can be very dangerous.”

A game of skill

Less dangerous than the cash games are tournaments—it becomes more dependent on skill rather than luck. “If cash games are 60 percent luck, then tournaments are actually 80 percent skill,” says Tito. “Unlike in cockfighting or sports betting, where you’re dependent on the chicken or the team, [here] you rely on yourself.”

Larry views poker as more than a gambler’s game. “It’s a sport, a competition. It trains you to be patient… and to read your competitors,” he says.

Carlo believes, however, that luck is a key factor in winning. “Poker is fun because the element of luck levels the playing field. You can have amateurs like me playing against pros and veterans, and I [can] still win,” he says. “It’s not like basketball, where you have almost no chance of beating the pros.”

Tito adds that poker allows him to practice other things—skills, if you will—too. “I can apply my acting skills at the table,” he says poking fun at his thespian background. Thanks to poker, Tito says he has become a natural at bluffing.

Busting out

Back at the table, I’m dealt a decent hand. I try to raise and chase away the other players after the flop. It doesn’t work, and I’m eliminated by the table leader. Whether because of my lack of acting skills, my limited resources, or fate, I lose all my chips. I hang around for a while, trying to learn something from the more experienced players.

“Young players [like to] watch you play and make your moves,” says Larry. “You don’t always want to give your secrets, but they learn.”

Tito isn’t fazed by my loss. “I used to lose all the time, too,” he says. “Eventually I learned, and now I’m getting better.” Since those first two months, he has bounced back from the P10,000 loss and is now up to P3,000 in winnings.

Beyond the hard numbers, though, he agrees that poker has a lot to teach. “Poker is like life, somewhat,” Tito says, waxing philosophical. “You have to make decisions—check, fold or call. You can bluff sometimes, and get lucky.”

Tito’s words ring in my head as I walk back to my car, the lit-up restaurants mocking the empty flaps of my wallet. Maybe I’ll be luckier next time. Maybe I’ll have learned something new.

For now though, it’s time to find a cheap place to eat.

* Name has been changed to protect the individual.