Entertainment

No easy wins at ‘World Series of Poker’

One of TV’s perverse beauties is that we can see for ourselves. We don’t need anyone’s help. We don’t need social scientists, statistics or the Parents Television Council.

Roughly 10 years ago, poker, in the form of “Texas Hold ’Em,” arrived on American TV, and with a rush and a crush. Soon, in any week, six, seven networks, including the Travel Channel, NBC and Fox — any network that wanted to buy in — carried what was pitched as “high-stakes” poker.

On Disney’s ESPN and its brand networks, the casino-based “World Series of Poker” became all-day, all-night programming.

At first, poker players who were invited to play on TV or had won their way past preliminary tables were almost all middle-aged-to-senior-citizen males. Some appeared as if they could afford to lose; others looked as if they’d been forever grinding and grinded — sleep-deprived, unshaven sunglass-wearing (to hide their glances and enhance an aura of mystery that often wasn’t worth the cost of the sunglasses).

Many looked as shot and as creepy as they were, as desperate as they pretended they weren’t. As slick as they were, after all, they couldn’t beat the eventuality that it would come down to the turn of a card.

But that was their business.

Within a few years, however, as TV mainstreamed “Hold ’Em,” the demographics at the World Series and other casino-run events began to radically change, to where they are now: The tables are packed with minimum-aged kids and young men.

These chasers, fully inspired by TV, turn their caps backwards, slip on the requisite sunglasses and, although too young to be considered unshaven, have devoted their lives to poker.

A few cash in, and big. And for a little while, at least, become famous.

The downside is never spoken, not on TV. But it’s huge. Numbers-smart but impressionable young men and some women — boys and girls, if they begin in high school, and many do — pursue their place at “The Final Table.”

The stories pile up and collide. I’ve heard all of them, many times from many people. Pick one, all or any combination:

Kid had no social life in high school beyond basement Hold ’Em games. Spent hours, every day, playing online poker. Quit playing ball. Never had a date. Suddenly, he and his friends had money issues: kids owed, kids were owed. Began to talk like a junior wise-guy.

Went to college, but played poker all day, all night. Claimed to have won a lot — despite persistent credit card debt and the immediate need for cash. Dropped classes. Dropped out. Owes money to ex-friends. Caught stealing (just a big misunderstanding).

And now he’s off to become a professional poker player. He just needs enough to buy in to the next tournament. He and thousands of others.

In 2005, an HBO “Real Sports” segment on the proliferation of Hold ’Em taped a tournament that was held on the campus of Indiana University — with the full, misguided sanctioning of the school. I was there. It was packed. Sign up early or be shut out. It was appalling.

And now, when you tune to the “World Series of Poker” on ESPN, you see a casino stuffed with tables packed with those young gold prospectors — those, on this day, still alive, barely, among the legions of vulnerables who TV, just 10 years ago, began to feed and water.

You don’t even have to believe your eyes. Ask the local council on compulsive gambling about the biggest change, over the last 10 years, among those seeking and needing help. They’ll tell you:

The average age has plummeted. The gamblers who wrecked their spouses’ and kids’ lives have been joined, and in a big way, by those who wrecked their parents’ lives.

Ten, 12 years ago, few even heard of Texas Hold ’Em. Then TV took over. From there, you could see it coming.