I PROMISED TO REPORT BACK AS SOON AS I had an opportunity to play Texas Hold ’em in a casino for the first time, and here I am. Instead of jumping straight to the results, let me build up the background story first.

If you’ve been following, you know that one December day while waiting for my ribs to smoke, I began playing Texas Hold ’em online as a lark. The Zynga app lets folks play for free. I got hooked. It turned out to be great fun and I seemed to be good at it. I won millions in fake money.

We originally planned a Reno trip in January after a month of practice. Susan left me to make the reservations. I didn’t make them. As that weekend approached, my feet got cold and I cancelled. Susan asked why I didn’t make reservations. I said, “Because I have reservations.”

I was still losing too often to suit me. Too many straights were beaten by flushes, flushes beaten by full houses. Betting big still terrified me.

More practice was needed. At a used bookstore I bought six poker books and read them all, while filling a notebook. From Netflix I ordered five poker DVDs. I logged 23,000 hands of practice play. My four-month bankroll ballooned to $16 million. Finally at Easter spring break I booked a week at the Eldorado.

We still love Reno regardless of the ravages of time. We’re not big gamblers, but Reno since the gambling collapse and the “Renossance” is now mostly about food and beverage. The Midtown Area has been amazingly gentrified. Streets are lined with new restaurants, nightclubs, breweries, and wine bars. We spent each day mostly walking and eating.

Each morning the Eldorado Poker Room, rated the best in town, opens with a 10 a.m. tournament. For $30 one can buy in for $5,000 in play chips and the competition begins against a field of about 20 players. The games continue until the crowd is whittled down to three to five players before any real money is won. It usually takes about two hours. After that, the no-limit continuous ring games begin and continue for the remainder of the day.

My biggest fear from the get-go has been about losing money. I bring enough to eat, drink, and be merry. I don’t need to win more, and if I lose I’d have to cut back on my fun. We gamble at extremely low stakes.

I just love card strategy. I love blackjack and poker, but I don’t love wagering. The tournament, at $30 maximum, seemed a safe starting point for me, win or lose.

We arrived on Sunday night. I peeked into the poker room and felt immediately intimidated. Serious men and women who’ve likely spent decades playing casino poker huddled around long tables behind enormous stacks of chips under a blanket of smoke. Mountains of jumbled chips grew in the large center pots.

I freaked. “I’m too afraid,” I said and did not play on Monday morning. I opted for a two-hour relaxing breakfast buffet instead. My morning was spent justifying why I froze up. Susan was cool with my angst. She encouragingly let me work it out.

Tuesday morning I sucked in a big breath, braced myself, and went alone to the poker room for my first tournament. The whole experience was like a dream. I sat with eight other guys. The many rules of etiquette beyond card strategy left me feeling overwhelmed. Details blurred, like what cards were on the table, how to bet, when to bet, what to do next. For about 30 minutes I did fine and was up to around $8,000. Then I paired a queen on an ace-queen-eight flop. The guy to my left pushed in $5,000 and I called. He had two aces, and my stack collapsed. Two hands later I went all in on two pair and was beat again. Game over. I thanked everyone for the experience and left the table.

I lost my virginity, but was I ready, after losing, for the real deal no-limit cash game? Not that day: too many doubts and butterflies. I needed to mull over my mistakes. I did not play on Tuesday or Wednesday. Perhaps I wouldn’t play at all and just drop the whole subject.

Finally on Thursday around 2 p.m. we were resting in our room. I played fake poker on my tablet for two hours, torn to pieces inside about my ambivalence. Would I really go home without ever playing? What a waste considering the hundred hours I’d spent studying and practicing.

Suddenly, without knowing I’d do it, I stood up, tossed the tablet to Susan, and said, “I’m going to play poker. Come check on me in an hour.”

Completely half desperate I fairly marched myself to the poker room. “Just do it. Just do it.”

The room was full of likely career professional players, but a few empty seats remained. The buy-in is $50 to $300, and a player can re-buy between hands as often as desired. I tossed the counter clerk a $100 bill. He handed me my chips and pointed me to an empty seat.

Let the games begin … next week.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.