Scott Green

There’s no need to worry about the shrinking job market. Plenty of great positions are still available for qualified college graduates, provided that college is Harvard. Otherwise you’re going to have to find more demeaning backup employment, such as rodeo clown or auto industry executive.

That’s why it’s a shame this year’s $25,000 World Poker Tour Championship, which concluded Saturday evening, attracted only 338 players, down from a high of 639 in 2007.

My backup job was going to be professional poker player, but this year’s WPT champion, 21-year-old Yevgeniy Timoshenko (pronounced “Yevgeniy Timoshenko”), only made $2.1 million. “I guess it’s an honor to win,” Timoshenko said, “but this isn’t enough to buy more than two or three private islands.”

When the WPT debuted six years ago, people couldn’t get enough of the show that had it all: southern accents, sunglasses, blank expressions, sitting. The media was obsessed with the game, and people flocked to casinos to lose money just like all their favorite players on TV.

Every network aired poker shows – ESPN’s “World Series of Poker”; NBC’s “National Heads-Up Poker Championship”; Bravo’s “Former Celebrities Who Can’t Remember If A Flush Beats A Straight.” The result was a rash of “professional poker players,” basically a bunch of college students who for some reason thought it would be fun to stop studying full time – kids these days! – to gamble for millions on television.

I was one of those people. In the summer of 2006 I drove to Las Vegas for a few months to live the life of a poker pro, which entailed lots of macaroni and cheese. (If you’re curious how I fared, let me say: Who do you think you are, the IRS? If so, I lost every penny I said I did, and gave the rest to a school for the deaf or, if that is not deductible, some church.)

The highlight of the experience was playing a couple of World Series of Poker events, including one in which I lost my $1,000 buy-in in 20 minutes. Somehow I didn’t become famous that summer, but I did avoid doing anything useful.

I’ve been relegated to hosting home games the past few years, which aren’t too bad, mostly because my guests bring beer. I’ve got all the amenities: padded green-felt table, casino-quality chips, an ATM down the hall from my apartment, etc.

The downside of home games is that everybody thinks they’re on a poker show. Players regularly sit motionless for long periods of time, deep in thought, debating a 25-cent decision. If someone ever dropped dead at one of my poker nights, I wouldn’t know for hours.

Of course, to rise to the top you need key poker skills. For example, you have to be able to read “tells.” You have to gauge your opponent’s tiniest tics and mannerisms, the dilation of his pupils and the fluidity of his movement. You must know him better than he knows himself and see into his soul. You have to be in tune with his subconscious and fully aware of the nuance of his being. Only then can you win his five dollars.

Also you need a deep understanding of statistics. If you have four to a flush, you’ve got to know which method of distracting your opponents is statistically most likely to work, so you can peek at the next card.

Unfortunately there’s not enough money in home games, so I’m going to need a regular job. But I think I can get one. My poker skills have netted enough for a realistic-looking Harvard diploma.

Scott is a third-year law student.