It was just two short (long) years ago that my poker adventure began. I had made a decision that I wanted poker to be more than just a hobby and it was time to start making that happen. I was a week and a half removed from a double hernia surgery and I had to go back to work in a couple days, so I did what any sensible patient would do: I went to Vegas.
I had recently completed Annie Duke's Decide To Play Great Poker (DTPGP), she was giving a DTPGP seminar in Vegas, and that's where I was headed (thanks, Mom). Regardless of what people might think of Annie as a businesswoman (see: Epic Poker), she's a great poker teacher. Getting to listen to her expand on the topics discussed in her book and getting to run through practice hands with some accomplished pros was a learning experience I'll never forget. I finished the four day trip with a renewed, if not new-found, desire to make poker a large part of my life and a large part of my income and up a few hundred bucks.
For Christmas my mom gave me Jared Tendler's The Mental Game of Poker. This was good because my (over-inflated) confidence from the seminar had led to me losing all the money I won whilst in Vegas. This book got me re-focused on why I was making the decisions I was making and how to change them.
As 2012 began, it seemed a little serendipitous that I won $300 in a fantasy football league. Before I even had the cash in my hand, I went to my local casino and sat down at the poker table. In four hours I turned it into $900 and I was on my way. Over the next two months I experienced two losing sessions and had run my bankroll up to $2000. I was playing smart and making good decisions.
Then the wheels came off.
Losing session followed losing session and after a month my bankroll was $0. I had gotten away from what had made me a successful player. I started thinking I was SO much better than the other players at the table that I didn't need to focus on the basics.
I was wrong and I knew it.
Unfortunately, I also didn't have a bankroll. Since then I've gone to the local casinos every now and then and fooled around, but I've never been able to re-capture what I had. I've just recently let myself accept what I've known all along: it's my fault I'm not playing well. There's a decent amount of mental strength needed to sit at a poker table for hours on end and continue to play well. It's a decision that one makes for oneself as to whether or not to have that discipline. It's a decision one makes for oneself as to whether or not something in one's life is important enough to put in the effort to get better at it.
Well I'm ready. I know I've said this before and failed. Or, rather, decided not to put in that effort. I can see now that this will be a constant struggle for me, but like they say, recognizing the problem is the first step towards fixing the problem. So I'm gonna keep these declarations of poker devotion coming, because one day it'll stick.
I leave for Vegas tomorrow (today if you're not reading the the minute I post it). I'm going for a friend's birthday, not for poker. I might play some poker. I don't know. But the timing of the trip made me think about the past two years and what I haven't accomplished in regards to my poker goals.
And it's time to get back at it.
I want poker in my life. I want to be good at it. I want to be BETTER at it. I want it to matter. And matter it will.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Friday, May 31, 2013
The Resurrection of KDiggity
I just can't help it. Every year around this same time, the excitement gets the better of me. It's time for the World Series of Poker.
I had effectively given up poker. I was done with it.
If you recall, my poker game in 2012 started off with a bang, then deteriorated through the summer. I had a bit of a pseudo-resurgence in the fall when I started coaching a friend of mine, took her to watch me in a cash game, and crushed it for almost $400 in three hours. I thought I was back. I put together a package for the Colorado Poker Championship in December and.....completely whiffed. It was demoralizing. I played six or seven events and didn't cash in a single one. It wasn't that I was playing poorly, necessarily, but I obviously wasn't playing my best.
It turns out there are a lot of really good poker players in Colorado. Twice a year the Heartland Poker tour comes to town and the final table of those events are regularly filled with people who live here. It's a different setting than what you find when you play in Vegas, because there isn't the tourist flow. You end up with the same players playing all the time, studying each other and their own games, and they're really good.
So I stopped playing. I even waxed poetic to my mother about how I felt like I'd never even been all that passionate about poker. I felt like I had tricked myself into believing that this was what I wanted to do. When I encountered a few obstacles in my poker journey, I bailed.
A slight digression: I suffer from depression. I don't know what it is, officially, as I've never seen a doctor about it. All I know is that I get down - REALLY down - sometimes, and it takes over my life. I don't think it's a manic-depressive thing, because I never really get manic. But the depression is there and it's very real.
Anyway, I was feeling awful about poker. I probably hated myself more than I hated the game, and trying to convince myself that I'd faked my passion for poker was, I think, just my depressive brain trying to convince myself of something else. It was an excuse. It was a way out.
For my entire life, most things have come very easily to me. I was great at any sport I played growing up. Kindergarten through high school was a breeze. I'm outgoing and very comfortable in social settings.
I now realize that any time I faced any sort of adversity, I quit. I embellished some excuses, probably made up some others as to why I was quitting, and then I gave up.
But the World Series of Poker always brings me back. The excitement surrounding the event is palpable. This even brings together the best poker players from around the world to compete for huge prize money and gold bracelets, and even then the best don't always win. It could be Hal, a plumber from Texas. It could be Tracy a teacher from Oregon. Or, in one incarnation of the fantasy, it could be me.
That's what makes the World Series so appealing. Truly, everyone can play and anyone can win.
My passion has been re-ignited for poker. It's time to put in the work. It's time to build my bankroll. It's time to finally not run away from something because it got a little difficult. I may also have a little surprise for myself and all of you, so keep an eye out for that.
See you on the felt.
-KDiggity-
I had effectively given up poker. I was done with it.
If you recall, my poker game in 2012 started off with a bang, then deteriorated through the summer. I had a bit of a pseudo-resurgence in the fall when I started coaching a friend of mine, took her to watch me in a cash game, and crushed it for almost $400 in three hours. I thought I was back. I put together a package for the Colorado Poker Championship in December and.....completely whiffed. It was demoralizing. I played six or seven events and didn't cash in a single one. It wasn't that I was playing poorly, necessarily, but I obviously wasn't playing my best.
It turns out there are a lot of really good poker players in Colorado. Twice a year the Heartland Poker tour comes to town and the final table of those events are regularly filled with people who live here. It's a different setting than what you find when you play in Vegas, because there isn't the tourist flow. You end up with the same players playing all the time, studying each other and their own games, and they're really good.
So I stopped playing. I even waxed poetic to my mother about how I felt like I'd never even been all that passionate about poker. I felt like I had tricked myself into believing that this was what I wanted to do. When I encountered a few obstacles in my poker journey, I bailed.
A slight digression: I suffer from depression. I don't know what it is, officially, as I've never seen a doctor about it. All I know is that I get down - REALLY down - sometimes, and it takes over my life. I don't think it's a manic-depressive thing, because I never really get manic. But the depression is there and it's very real.
Anyway, I was feeling awful about poker. I probably hated myself more than I hated the game, and trying to convince myself that I'd faked my passion for poker was, I think, just my depressive brain trying to convince myself of something else. It was an excuse. It was a way out.
For my entire life, most things have come very easily to me. I was great at any sport I played growing up. Kindergarten through high school was a breeze. I'm outgoing and very comfortable in social settings.
I now realize that any time I faced any sort of adversity, I quit. I embellished some excuses, probably made up some others as to why I was quitting, and then I gave up.
But the World Series of Poker always brings me back. The excitement surrounding the event is palpable. This even brings together the best poker players from around the world to compete for huge prize money and gold bracelets, and even then the best don't always win. It could be Hal, a plumber from Texas. It could be Tracy a teacher from Oregon. Or, in one incarnation of the fantasy, it could be me.
That's what makes the World Series so appealing. Truly, everyone can play and anyone can win.
My passion has been re-ignited for poker. It's time to put in the work. It's time to build my bankroll. It's time to finally not run away from something because it got a little difficult. I may also have a little surprise for myself and all of you, so keep an eye out for that.
See you on the felt.
-KDiggity-
Thursday, October 11, 2012
I'm baaaaaaack........
Oh, hello there, dear reader. Yes, it has been a while since I've played poker. Yes, it has been even longer since I've written anything.
See, what had happened was, my poker game blew up. And when I say "blew up" I mean exploded. And when I say "exploded" I mean imploded. And with it, so went my brain.
If you'll recall, the beginning of 2012 was pretty amazing. Out of 13 sessions, 11 of them were winning sessions. I was reading everything in sight and improving my game on an almost daily basis. The only problem, and a problem I didn't see, was that I was getting over-confident. I thought I could crush any game I played in. I started overplaying my hands. I started pushing my stack around in bad spots.
Then I started losing.
I wasn't ready for that. For as big as my upswing was at the beginning of the year, the following downswing was just as bad. Over the next 12 sessions I had 10 losing sessions. I know a lot of that was the standard variance that happens in this silly game we play, but my over-confidence didn't help. Because I was "high" on myself, I wasn't emotionally ready to deal with the variance. I would push and push, trying to get my bankroll to bounce back to where it was, when all I needed to do was take a deep breath and go back to the basics.
I destroyed my bankroll.
I scraped together enough money for a trip to Vegas in May; couldn't win a thing. I had a Skype coaching session with a couple of Stack'em coaches that I thought would help. I put together a little bankroll for the WSOP in June, including selling percentages to family and friends; couldn't win a thing.
It was at that point that I decided to walk away.
I was drained. I wasn't enjoying my job. My best friend got married and moved. I had a hernia repair fail. And I sucked at the one thing I really loved doing: playing poker.
But about a month ago I started getting the urge. It had been three months since I'd even looked at a deck of cards, and I wanted to get back to it. I felt emotionally settled. I felt calm.
So last night I played. And I played well.
Everything I've learned came into play, and I was picking the right moments to use it. I think part of my downfall during the early part of the year was my urge to use EVERYTHING I was learning, right now, right away, bluff, steal, raise, go go GO. What I wasn't paying attention to was that I was doing things in situations that weren't right. But last night I was patient. I was folding most of my hands. When I did see a flop, I was aware of who my opponents were and how they played. I was always willing to muck my hand if I knew I was beat. In just over three hours, I turned $200 into $545. Boom!
It's good to have knowledge of the game. But knowledge of the game doesn't help at all if you don't know how and when to use it. You can't force a bluff. You have to wait for the right bluff situation against the right player. You can't get into "chase mode" just because someone else at the table is doing it and it's working. That player will eventually go broke, and you don't want to be like him.
I've heard it said that sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can get back up. I think that's what I did. Luckily, my rock bottom didn't involve losing my job and living on the streets, but I think you know what I mean. I needed to my poker game to be completely torn to shreds before I could move forward.
So now I'm back. I have a better understanding of myself, my life, and my poker game. And it's time to make this work.
-KDiggity-
See, what had happened was, my poker game blew up. And when I say "blew up" I mean exploded. And when I say "exploded" I mean imploded. And with it, so went my brain.
If you'll recall, the beginning of 2012 was pretty amazing. Out of 13 sessions, 11 of them were winning sessions. I was reading everything in sight and improving my game on an almost daily basis. The only problem, and a problem I didn't see, was that I was getting over-confident. I thought I could crush any game I played in. I started overplaying my hands. I started pushing my stack around in bad spots.
Then I started losing.
I wasn't ready for that. For as big as my upswing was at the beginning of the year, the following downswing was just as bad. Over the next 12 sessions I had 10 losing sessions. I know a lot of that was the standard variance that happens in this silly game we play, but my over-confidence didn't help. Because I was "high" on myself, I wasn't emotionally ready to deal with the variance. I would push and push, trying to get my bankroll to bounce back to where it was, when all I needed to do was take a deep breath and go back to the basics.
I destroyed my bankroll.
I scraped together enough money for a trip to Vegas in May; couldn't win a thing. I had a Skype coaching session with a couple of Stack'em coaches that I thought would help. I put together a little bankroll for the WSOP in June, including selling percentages to family and friends; couldn't win a thing.
It was at that point that I decided to walk away.
I was drained. I wasn't enjoying my job. My best friend got married and moved. I had a hernia repair fail. And I sucked at the one thing I really loved doing: playing poker.
But about a month ago I started getting the urge. It had been three months since I'd even looked at a deck of cards, and I wanted to get back to it. I felt emotionally settled. I felt calm.
So last night I played. And I played well.
Everything I've learned came into play, and I was picking the right moments to use it. I think part of my downfall during the early part of the year was my urge to use EVERYTHING I was learning, right now, right away, bluff, steal, raise, go go GO. What I wasn't paying attention to was that I was doing things in situations that weren't right. But last night I was patient. I was folding most of my hands. When I did see a flop, I was aware of who my opponents were and how they played. I was always willing to muck my hand if I knew I was beat. In just over three hours, I turned $200 into $545. Boom!
It's good to have knowledge of the game. But knowledge of the game doesn't help at all if you don't know how and when to use it. You can't force a bluff. You have to wait for the right bluff situation against the right player. You can't get into "chase mode" just because someone else at the table is doing it and it's working. That player will eventually go broke, and you don't want to be like him.
I've heard it said that sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can get back up. I think that's what I did. Luckily, my rock bottom didn't involve losing my job and living on the streets, but I think you know what I mean. I needed to my poker game to be completely torn to shreds before I could move forward.
So now I'm back. I have a better understanding of myself, my life, and my poker game. And it's time to make this work.
-KDiggity-
Friday, May 11, 2012
Operation: Skinny Diggity
On May 1, poker pro Sorel Mizzi issued a challenge to the poker community. He had found recent success in changing his lifestyle and losing weight and found that it directly affected his poker game in a positive way. His challenge was open to anyone willing to participate. Basically, get on a 90-day weight loss/fitness program and blog about how it changes your life and affects your poker game. Each entry would be judged by Sorel and two fitness gurus. The winner would win a year of free coaching from Sorel, along with the possibility for continued coaching and even a backing arrangement.
That sounds pretty amazing, and I decided to do it. After all, what did I have to lose (other than the extra 30-40 lbs I've been carrying around for way too long)?
I was explaining the challenge to a co-worker of mine and she asked me where he was from. I couldn't tell her, so I Googled him when I got home and this is what I found...
Cheating? For real? I went ahead and clicked "sorel mizzi cheating" and got a list of sites referencing numerous occasions in which he allegedly cheated...
After reading a few articles, it looks like he's admitted to two online scams while the incident with John Racener is still being debated.
I've known how being overweight has affected my mindset and depression over the last few years. I thought this would be a great opportunity to have some motivation to get fit, especially with the potential reward of free coaching from a pro with a significant amount of success. But I'll be damned if I'm going to be associated with a known cheater.
So, to steal a line from one of my favorite movies, "You don't help me now, I say "fuck you" Jobu. I do it myself."
I don't need the promise of free coaching to help me get in better shape. I just need to understand that it's what is best for me. Back in 2008 I was in a good habit of going to the gym very regularly and lost about 30 lbs in three months. I got off track and I've slowly been putting it back on over the last three years. Right now I weigh 210 lbs, with my goal being 180. I've started cooking at home again. Two days ago I played my first softball game in about 10 years (further motivation) and yesterday I went for a run for the first time in about seven. I would have gone to the gym today, but I'm so sore I can barely move. But it's a good sore.
Here are some "before" pics I took so I can track my progress (not for the feint of heart, lol)...
I can't wait to be skinny(er) again and I really can't wait to see how exercising helps my mental game when it comes to poker.
That sounds pretty amazing, and I decided to do it. After all, what did I have to lose (other than the extra 30-40 lbs I've been carrying around for way too long)?
I was explaining the challenge to a co-worker of mine and she asked me where he was from. I couldn't tell her, so I Googled him when I got home and this is what I found...
Cheating? For real? I went ahead and clicked "sorel mizzi cheating" and got a list of sites referencing numerous occasions in which he allegedly cheated...
After reading a few articles, it looks like he's admitted to two online scams while the incident with John Racener is still being debated.
I've known how being overweight has affected my mindset and depression over the last few years. I thought this would be a great opportunity to have some motivation to get fit, especially with the potential reward of free coaching from a pro with a significant amount of success. But I'll be damned if I'm going to be associated with a known cheater.
So, to steal a line from one of my favorite movies, "You don't help me now, I say "fuck you" Jobu. I do it myself."
I don't need the promise of free coaching to help me get in better shape. I just need to understand that it's what is best for me. Back in 2008 I was in a good habit of going to the gym very regularly and lost about 30 lbs in three months. I got off track and I've slowly been putting it back on over the last three years. Right now I weigh 210 lbs, with my goal being 180. I've started cooking at home again. Two days ago I played my first softball game in about 10 years (further motivation) and yesterday I went for a run for the first time in about seven. I would have gone to the gym today, but I'm so sore I can barely move. But it's a good sore.
Here are some "before" pics I took so I can track my progress (not for the feint of heart, lol)...
I can't wait to be skinny(er) again and I really can't wait to see how exercising helps my mental game when it comes to poker.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Life Leaks & Doubt
I almost began this post with an apology for not writing anything for two months. But I'm not sorry, so I won't. The only person that's going to be mad at me is me. And I'm not. So there.
The last two months have been particularly trying. I know I'm not the first poker player in the world to go through a downswing, but it's the first one for me since I made the decision to work towards doing this for a living. And after the massive upswing I had during the first couple months of the year, the negative effect has been exponentially bad. Briefly, out of the first 14 sessions of the year I had only three losing sessions, whereas out of the last 12 sessions I've had only three winning sessions. My bankroll now sits at a measly one and a half buy-ins.
I suppose I can stand it. Poker income is not (yet) what my livelihood depends on. But I've let the downturn at the tables mess with my head in regards the rest of my life, and that's turned into one big negative snowball.
I almost quit my job at the bar. Through a series of (fortunate) circumstances I ended up not quitting. But what would have happened if I had? I probably would have just found another job at another bar dealing with another group of drunks and cheapskates and incompetent co-workers. The truth is, the job I have is pretty sweet. I make insanely consistent money, the regulars are great, and I only work three days a week. I let my frustration with my poker game magnify the "problems" I had at my day job. I realize now just how dire the situation would have been if I'd actually quit. Yes, I have money in the bank. But the last time I left a bar job, I couldn't find another one for almost six months. I don't have that much money in the bank. Luckily, what happened happened and my head is on straight in regards to the bar job. I just have to keep reminding myself that the bar is not the end, it is a means to an end.
About a month ago I sat down with my financial planner/life coach (read: Mom) and we worked out a schedule. We figured out a good balance of work, poker, poker study, writing, exercise, and fun. We also worked out a grocery shopping and cooking schedule. Yes, I have to be that detailed, because if I'm not, I lose focus and the whole thing goes to shit. Well, I did really well for a week. Then the whole thing went to shit.
They say it takes three weeks to change or create a habit. After seven days the schedule was toast. I can't really pinpoint where and when it started to falter, but I know how my brain works, and there were probably a couple days when I let one or two things slide and then it became increasingly easier to let other things slide. Then the whole thing slid. It slid right down the hillside and ended up in the creek, washed away.
This is probably the scariest part of this whole endeavor: my brain. I honestly don't know if I have the discipline to maintain the lifestyle I'll need to maintain in order to make this whole poker thing work. I don't know that I have the discipline to play my best game all the time and not spew my entire bankroll when I'm running bad. I feel like I'm more Stu Ungar than Daniel Negreanu.
The frustration is that as much as I want to make these changes, I'm not doing it. I'll still go get fast food when I should go to the store and buy chicken and vegetables and breakfast stuff for the week. Instead of going to the gym, I'll turn off my alarm and convince myself that the extra two hours of sleep will do me good. Then two hours turns into four and it's time to get ready for work. Oops. I should be writing on a semi-daily, if not daily, basis, but when Epic Poker filed for bankruptcy protection right after publishing an article of mine (that can still be found here, for what it's worth) I lost a lot of my enthusiasm for blogging. I guess, just like my poker game at the beginning of the year, I got a little too much success a little too quickly.
I know these things won't come easily. I guess it's a little scary for me, though, because 1) I've never had to work terribly hard to be successful at most things in my life, and 2) I've run from the few things that did get difficult: college, restaurant management, and relationships.
I recently read a quote that really struck a chord with me, even though I can't remember where I saw it or who said it. It reads (paraphrased), "A year from now, you'll wish you started today." Damn. If that ain't the truth, I don't know what is.
So, if you'll excuse me, I must be off. Time to go to bed so I can wake up a little earlier tomorrow and begin my new life. Because I don't want to, one year from now, wish I'd made these changes; I want to be glad I made them.
The last two months have been particularly trying. I know I'm not the first poker player in the world to go through a downswing, but it's the first one for me since I made the decision to work towards doing this for a living. And after the massive upswing I had during the first couple months of the year, the negative effect has been exponentially bad. Briefly, out of the first 14 sessions of the year I had only three losing sessions, whereas out of the last 12 sessions I've had only three winning sessions. My bankroll now sits at a measly one and a half buy-ins.
I suppose I can stand it. Poker income is not (yet) what my livelihood depends on. But I've let the downturn at the tables mess with my head in regards the rest of my life, and that's turned into one big negative snowball.
I almost quit my job at the bar. Through a series of (fortunate) circumstances I ended up not quitting. But what would have happened if I had? I probably would have just found another job at another bar dealing with another group of drunks and cheapskates and incompetent co-workers. The truth is, the job I have is pretty sweet. I make insanely consistent money, the regulars are great, and I only work three days a week. I let my frustration with my poker game magnify the "problems" I had at my day job. I realize now just how dire the situation would have been if I'd actually quit. Yes, I have money in the bank. But the last time I left a bar job, I couldn't find another one for almost six months. I don't have that much money in the bank. Luckily, what happened happened and my head is on straight in regards to the bar job. I just have to keep reminding myself that the bar is not the end, it is a means to an end.
About a month ago I sat down with my financial planner/life coach (read: Mom) and we worked out a schedule. We figured out a good balance of work, poker, poker study, writing, exercise, and fun. We also worked out a grocery shopping and cooking schedule. Yes, I have to be that detailed, because if I'm not, I lose focus and the whole thing goes to shit. Well, I did really well for a week. Then the whole thing went to shit.
They say it takes three weeks to change or create a habit. After seven days the schedule was toast. I can't really pinpoint where and when it started to falter, but I know how my brain works, and there were probably a couple days when I let one or two things slide and then it became increasingly easier to let other things slide. Then the whole thing slid. It slid right down the hillside and ended up in the creek, washed away.
This is probably the scariest part of this whole endeavor: my brain. I honestly don't know if I have the discipline to maintain the lifestyle I'll need to maintain in order to make this whole poker thing work. I don't know that I have the discipline to play my best game all the time and not spew my entire bankroll when I'm running bad. I feel like I'm more Stu Ungar than Daniel Negreanu.
The frustration is that as much as I want to make these changes, I'm not doing it. I'll still go get fast food when I should go to the store and buy chicken and vegetables and breakfast stuff for the week. Instead of going to the gym, I'll turn off my alarm and convince myself that the extra two hours of sleep will do me good. Then two hours turns into four and it's time to get ready for work. Oops. I should be writing on a semi-daily, if not daily, basis, but when Epic Poker filed for bankruptcy protection right after publishing an article of mine (that can still be found here, for what it's worth) I lost a lot of my enthusiasm for blogging. I guess, just like my poker game at the beginning of the year, I got a little too much success a little too quickly.
I know these things won't come easily. I guess it's a little scary for me, though, because 1) I've never had to work terribly hard to be successful at most things in my life, and 2) I've run from the few things that did get difficult: college, restaurant management, and relationships.
I recently read a quote that really struck a chord with me, even though I can't remember where I saw it or who said it. It reads (paraphrased), "A year from now, you'll wish you started today." Damn. If that ain't the truth, I don't know what is.
So, if you'll excuse me, I must be off. Time to go to bed so I can wake up a little earlier tomorrow and begin my new life. Because I don't want to, one year from now, wish I'd made these changes; I want to be glad I made them.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Losing My Way
Tonight there was a hiccup. A big hiccup. The kind of hiccup that sneaks up on you in the middle of your little sister's dance recital just as she's about to begin her performance of Swan Lake and the whole audience is silent, when all of a sudden . . . HICCUP!!! And everyone looks at you with disdain.
I had a bad night at the poker table. Like, a really bad night. Like, I've only lost this much in one session when it was a WSOP buy-in.
Granted, tonight was just a $400 loss, not actually a whole lot, and the WSOP buy-in was $1500, but it sure felt like that much. I sat down after the session and wrote down my thoughts on what happened and why I lost and I came to one realization: It was all my fault.
The loss tonight was 1/5th of my bankroll; a bankroll I've been diligently building since the start of 2012. I've studied the game, I've worked on my mental strength, I've been crushing the local $1/$2 game over the last six weeks, and tonight it all came crashing down.
Okay, I suppose that's a little dramatic, but it certainly felt like it. And that's probably a good thing.
Like I said before, I sat down to write down my thoughts on the session, a practice highly recommended by Jared Tendler in his book The Mental Game of Poker, and one of first practices I adopted after reading the book. When you write about each session, you get to instantly analyze how things went: what you did well, what you did poorly, what you observed about others, and, most importantly, what you observed about yourself. In the middle of writing down my thoughts, I realized I hadn't done this very thing in a couple weeks. Why not? I think the very obvious answer is that I just didn't think I had to anymore. I had been successful enough in the previous month or so that I didn't feel like I needed to take the time for such an arbitrary practice. I much preferred to make my way back to town to have drinks with my friends and celebrate yet another winning session at the poker table. My confidence was getting the better of me.
And my confidence has definitely gotten the better of me at the poker table. Tonight I found myself overplaying some hands that I knew I shouldn't be overplaying, but I think I thought I was entitled to it. More than a couple times I found myself being stubborn when the flop missed my hand and I was sure I could outplay my opponent. No, stupid, he just flopped top pair with top kicker, it's okay to fold your hand. But I wouldn't. I started playing the but/if game with myself: but if this happens on the turn; but/if this card comes on the river . . . etc, etc. That's probably the worst thing I could let my brain do.
With my overconfidence, I started opening up my range of starting hands. Even worse, I started opening up my position at the table for that same opened up range of hands. All of a sudden I was playing poker completely backwards. As I learned from reading Annie Duke's Decide To Play Great Poker, the main thing you want to do is make your own decisions easier while making your opponents' decisions more difficult. All I was doing by opening up my range and starting position at the table was making my decisions more difficult and those of my opponents easier. It was complete idiocy.
While I was writing down my thoughts about the session I realized that I had been steadily moving in this direction for the last week or so, I had just gotten lucky a couple times, and it hadn't come back to bite me in the ass. Well, this session took a big chunk out of my backside.
Good.
This setback is going to force me to get back to the basics. I had stopped focusing at the table and concentrating on what my opponents were doing and how they were playing. Instead I was Facebooking about my success or Tweeting about a recent hand or texting friends about what was going on later that night. No more phone at the table.
I haven't cracked open a poker book in at least three weeks. Well, I obviously haven't absorbed everything I needed to, or I wouldn't be having this talk with you. It's time to get back to studying the game. I have enough down-time during the week that this shouldn't be an issue, I just have to do it.
Most importantly, I have to ingrain in my brain (unintentional rhyming) that this what I want to do for a living. This is how I'm going to pay my rent. This is how I'm going to afford to go on dates. This is how I'm going to eat. So I owe it to myself to make sure that I'm totally focused on the task at hand every time I sit down at the table. I know a lot of the people I know don't see it that way, and I've succumbed to their whimsical attitudes towards poker. But it's my responsibility to make sure they understand that this is going to be my job, and just like any other job I can't just call out whenever I feel like it. And if they can't, or refuse, to understand that then they have no place in my life.
This is it, kids, this is the dream. So I have a responsibility to myself to make sure I'm prepared each and every time I sit down at the poker table.
Let's get back at it.
I had a bad night at the poker table. Like, a really bad night. Like, I've only lost this much in one session when it was a WSOP buy-in.
Granted, tonight was just a $400 loss, not actually a whole lot, and the WSOP buy-in was $1500, but it sure felt like that much. I sat down after the session and wrote down my thoughts on what happened and why I lost and I came to one realization: It was all my fault.
The loss tonight was 1/5th of my bankroll; a bankroll I've been diligently building since the start of 2012. I've studied the game, I've worked on my mental strength, I've been crushing the local $1/$2 game over the last six weeks, and tonight it all came crashing down.
Okay, I suppose that's a little dramatic, but it certainly felt like it. And that's probably a good thing.
Like I said before, I sat down to write down my thoughts on the session, a practice highly recommended by Jared Tendler in his book The Mental Game of Poker, and one of first practices I adopted after reading the book. When you write about each session, you get to instantly analyze how things went: what you did well, what you did poorly, what you observed about others, and, most importantly, what you observed about yourself. In the middle of writing down my thoughts, I realized I hadn't done this very thing in a couple weeks. Why not? I think the very obvious answer is that I just didn't think I had to anymore. I had been successful enough in the previous month or so that I didn't feel like I needed to take the time for such an arbitrary practice. I much preferred to make my way back to town to have drinks with my friends and celebrate yet another winning session at the poker table. My confidence was getting the better of me.
And my confidence has definitely gotten the better of me at the poker table. Tonight I found myself overplaying some hands that I knew I shouldn't be overplaying, but I think I thought I was entitled to it. More than a couple times I found myself being stubborn when the flop missed my hand and I was sure I could outplay my opponent. No, stupid, he just flopped top pair with top kicker, it's okay to fold your hand. But I wouldn't. I started playing the but/if game with myself: but if this happens on the turn; but/if this card comes on the river . . . etc, etc. That's probably the worst thing I could let my brain do.
With my overconfidence, I started opening up my range of starting hands. Even worse, I started opening up my position at the table for that same opened up range of hands. All of a sudden I was playing poker completely backwards. As I learned from reading Annie Duke's Decide To Play Great Poker, the main thing you want to do is make your own decisions easier while making your opponents' decisions more difficult. All I was doing by opening up my range and starting position at the table was making my decisions more difficult and those of my opponents easier. It was complete idiocy.
While I was writing down my thoughts about the session I realized that I had been steadily moving in this direction for the last week or so, I had just gotten lucky a couple times, and it hadn't come back to bite me in the ass. Well, this session took a big chunk out of my backside.
Good.
This setback is going to force me to get back to the basics. I had stopped focusing at the table and concentrating on what my opponents were doing and how they were playing. Instead I was Facebooking about my success or Tweeting about a recent hand or texting friends about what was going on later that night. No more phone at the table.
I haven't cracked open a poker book in at least three weeks. Well, I obviously haven't absorbed everything I needed to, or I wouldn't be having this talk with you. It's time to get back to studying the game. I have enough down-time during the week that this shouldn't be an issue, I just have to do it.
Most importantly, I have to ingrain in my brain (unintentional rhyming) that this what I want to do for a living. This is how I'm going to pay my rent. This is how I'm going to afford to go on dates. This is how I'm going to eat. So I owe it to myself to make sure that I'm totally focused on the task at hand every time I sit down at the table. I know a lot of the people I know don't see it that way, and I've succumbed to their whimsical attitudes towards poker. But it's my responsibility to make sure they understand that this is going to be my job, and just like any other job I can't just call out whenever I feel like it. And if they can't, or refuse, to understand that then they have no place in my life.
This is it, kids, this is the dream. So I have a responsibility to myself to make sure I'm prepared each and every time I sit down at the poker table.
Let's get back at it.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Decisions, Decisions...
I know it's been a minute since I've written a blog. I'd tell you that I've been really busy, which I have, but there's no place for excuses. I've been working what has been a not-so-set schedule at the bar, playing poker twice a week on my days off, reading any poker book I can get my hands on, watching my 49ers get bounced in the NFC Championship, and now shopping for a new car.
My poker play is continuing to improve and every time I sit at a table I learn something. I'm staying humble and making good decisions. Out of the nine cash sessions I've played this year, six have been winning, two have been losing, and one was a marathon break-even. Probably the most important thing I've learned is that if I sit down and play a good, solid, straight-forward game I will make at least $200. This is perfect. If I want to play poker for a living I need to make $650 a week, and making $200 a session will make that achievable. Obviously, there will be times when I make more or less than that, and I'll need to open up my game a little bit to have bigger nights and make up for the inevitable downswings, but for right now I'm encouraged by my consistency.
I've also gotten some outside interest in a couple of blogs I've written, which is something I can hopefully parlay into more of a full-time gig. Plus, it's fun to be on the verge of being able to call myself a published writer. I truly love this game and I'm fascinated by everything associated with it. If I can make a living not only by playing poker, but also by writing about it, I imagine I will be truly happy.
All this is leading me down the path towards a question that I suppose was inevitably going to be asked: Do I move to Vegas?
Right now I'm consistently winning at poker here in Colorado. But is that going to change? Will my time and success at the poker tables lead other players to not want to play with me? I've already identified half a dozen players I don't like being at the same table with. We don't have the tourist flow that Vegas does, and in the month since I've increased my play I already recognize the majority of the players in the poker room when I go play. As of right now there's no reason to try and move up to the $2/$5 game from the $1/$2 game in which I currently play, but will that change if the action dries up at $1/$2? My goal isn't to play against good players; my goal is to make money. It wouldn't make sense to move into that game and sit at a whole table of sharks. Vegas provides the anonymity and player pool to be able to take advantage of the fact that most people that sit down at a poker table, while understanding the basics of the game, aren't all that good.
In regards to my writing, I think the answer is actually more clear: Vegas would help. I can write all I want about being a $1/$2 grinder and the experiences I have, but to truly be involved in the poker community, well, there's only one place in the world for that. This summer I want to go to Vegas for a month during the WSOP. This is a task that is complicated by having a "day job." I don't know that my employer would be okay with me leaving for that long. Additionally, I'm struggling with the time-frame. If I go out for July, I get to be there for the Main Event but miss the bulk of the tournaments. If I go out for June, I'm there for the bulk of the tournaments but miss the Main Event. Easy solution that's not so easy: go to Vegas for two months. If I did that, I guarantee that I wouldn't have my job when I came back. But I think being in Vegas for an extended period of time during the WSOP is vital to continuing to develop my writing career.
My goal is to have one year's worth of expenses in the bank before I quit "working" altogether and play poker for a living. Right now I'm 1/33rd of the way there, so losing my job to stay in Vegas for two months to write about stuff I'm probably only going to be posting on my blog doesn't seem very prudent. Granted, I'm also going to be playing a ton of poker, but what if I go on a losing streak? Then I'll be stuck.
The comforting part of all of this is that I do still have my "day job," Vegas will always be there, nothing is going to stop me from writing, and we're still four months away from the beginning of the WSOP and a TON can happen between now and then.
It's something I need to keep on the back burner and be ready to move to the front burner if the opportunity presents itself.
My poker play is continuing to improve and every time I sit at a table I learn something. I'm staying humble and making good decisions. Out of the nine cash sessions I've played this year, six have been winning, two have been losing, and one was a marathon break-even. Probably the most important thing I've learned is that if I sit down and play a good, solid, straight-forward game I will make at least $200. This is perfect. If I want to play poker for a living I need to make $650 a week, and making $200 a session will make that achievable. Obviously, there will be times when I make more or less than that, and I'll need to open up my game a little bit to have bigger nights and make up for the inevitable downswings, but for right now I'm encouraged by my consistency.
I've also gotten some outside interest in a couple of blogs I've written, which is something I can hopefully parlay into more of a full-time gig. Plus, it's fun to be on the verge of being able to call myself a published writer. I truly love this game and I'm fascinated by everything associated with it. If I can make a living not only by playing poker, but also by writing about it, I imagine I will be truly happy.
All this is leading me down the path towards a question that I suppose was inevitably going to be asked: Do I move to Vegas?
Right now I'm consistently winning at poker here in Colorado. But is that going to change? Will my time and success at the poker tables lead other players to not want to play with me? I've already identified half a dozen players I don't like being at the same table with. We don't have the tourist flow that Vegas does, and in the month since I've increased my play I already recognize the majority of the players in the poker room when I go play. As of right now there's no reason to try and move up to the $2/$5 game from the $1/$2 game in which I currently play, but will that change if the action dries up at $1/$2? My goal isn't to play against good players; my goal is to make money. It wouldn't make sense to move into that game and sit at a whole table of sharks. Vegas provides the anonymity and player pool to be able to take advantage of the fact that most people that sit down at a poker table, while understanding the basics of the game, aren't all that good.
In regards to my writing, I think the answer is actually more clear: Vegas would help. I can write all I want about being a $1/$2 grinder and the experiences I have, but to truly be involved in the poker community, well, there's only one place in the world for that. This summer I want to go to Vegas for a month during the WSOP. This is a task that is complicated by having a "day job." I don't know that my employer would be okay with me leaving for that long. Additionally, I'm struggling with the time-frame. If I go out for July, I get to be there for the Main Event but miss the bulk of the tournaments. If I go out for June, I'm there for the bulk of the tournaments but miss the Main Event. Easy solution that's not so easy: go to Vegas for two months. If I did that, I guarantee that I wouldn't have my job when I came back. But I think being in Vegas for an extended period of time during the WSOP is vital to continuing to develop my writing career.
My goal is to have one year's worth of expenses in the bank before I quit "working" altogether and play poker for a living. Right now I'm 1/33rd of the way there, so losing my job to stay in Vegas for two months to write about stuff I'm probably only going to be posting on my blog doesn't seem very prudent. Granted, I'm also going to be playing a ton of poker, but what if I go on a losing streak? Then I'll be stuck.
The comforting part of all of this is that I do still have my "day job," Vegas will always be there, nothing is going to stop me from writing, and we're still four months away from the beginning of the WSOP and a TON can happen between now and then.
It's something I need to keep on the back burner and be ready to move to the front burner if the opportunity presents itself.
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