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.
Showing posts with label no limit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no limit. Show all posts
Thursday, February 16, 2012
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.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Mr. Aggro and the Fearful Kevin
Ameristar Casino, Blackhawk, CO, $1/$2 NL, buy-in: $200
I want to talk about a hand that I played recently, because I think it exemplifies how many different things you have to take into consideration when playing this game that we love so much. Not only do you have to do the appropriate math on any given hand, but you also have to think about how the table is running and what the different interactions are between the different players.
On this occasion it was a Friday night, so there was the expected mix of serious and recreational players, both older and younger. After a few hours at the table I was comfortably up a couple hundred bucks, and I felt like I had good control of my play and a decently aggressive table image. I hadn’t played anything “out of line”, so nobody was trying to come after me and I felt like I was attracting a solid, predictable line of play from the other players. In other words, my play had been solid enough that the other players knew the only way they could beat me was with a good, solid hand, which in turn made my evaluation of their play very easy.
All this changed when a hyper-aggro older man joined the table. He bought in for $200 and dusted it off in about thirty minutes. He was raising with any two cards and calling all the way to the river with them. This immediately put everyone at the table on their heels, including me.
He bought in for another $200 and continued this same line of play. This time, however, he started hitting his hands. I tried to play back at him a couple times, but the cards just weren’t coming for me to continue to punish him after the flop. It got very frustrating.
KEY HAND:
The aggro guy was in the BB and I was in the cut-off. There were three limpers when the action got to me and I decided to limp with As4s. The button and the SB also limped and the BB raised it to $12. One of the limpers called and I called, so we were three-handed to the flop.
My reasoning for making this call was that 1) he had been playing and raising with all sorts of hands, so 2) there was a good chance that I had the best hand, but if I didn’t, then 3) the flop could hit me over the head and I could punish him, but 4) I don’t want to re-raise here because he could still have a real hand and if he comes back over the top, I have to fold. Obviously, if the board bricks or an A comes on the flop and there’s a bet, it’s an easy fold for me.
The flop came out 3c5s7h.
Mr. Aggro immediately bet $100 into the $46 pot and the other caller folded. With the action on me, I tanked. I wanted so badly to play this hand, but my stack had dwindled to about $230, and I was afraid of losing the chips, especially after I had been up so much earlier. I ended up folding and the Mr. Aggro showed KK. However, the more I’ve thought about it, the more I think I should have played, and here’s why:
Obviously, in the face of the $100 bet on the flop, I would have re-raised for my whole stack. There was a good enough chance that I still had the best hand and that he would have folded to make that a good play.
After the flop, I had a double-belly straight draw (8 outs), I think any A on the board would make me good (3 outs), and I could have gone runner-runner flush (8 outs), for a total of 19 outs. By my amateur math, that put me at about 50/50 to win the hand after the flop. If you factor in that I would have had to go runner-runner for the flush, let’s call it 45% that I win.
As we all know, though, the math is just one part of the game. You also have to take into account the table dynamic and whom you’re up against in each hand. In this case I feel like I was almost obligated to play this hand, based on my opponent. He had been pushing and pushing and it was time for someone at the table to really push back. I missed my chance.
What got in the way of making the right decision was my fear of losing my money. In the future, I can’t let my fear of losing cloud my judgment on what I now know would have been both a mathematically, as well as, for lack of a better word, emotionally, correct decision.
I ended up cashing out with a +$50 session, but I’ll always remember this hand and focus on making good decisions, regardless of how much money is involved.
I want to talk about a hand that I played recently, because I think it exemplifies how many different things you have to take into consideration when playing this game that we love so much. Not only do you have to do the appropriate math on any given hand, but you also have to think about how the table is running and what the different interactions are between the different players.
On this occasion it was a Friday night, so there was the expected mix of serious and recreational players, both older and younger. After a few hours at the table I was comfortably up a couple hundred bucks, and I felt like I had good control of my play and a decently aggressive table image. I hadn’t played anything “out of line”, so nobody was trying to come after me and I felt like I was attracting a solid, predictable line of play from the other players. In other words, my play had been solid enough that the other players knew the only way they could beat me was with a good, solid hand, which in turn made my evaluation of their play very easy.
All this changed when a hyper-aggro older man joined the table. He bought in for $200 and dusted it off in about thirty minutes. He was raising with any two cards and calling all the way to the river with them. This immediately put everyone at the table on their heels, including me.
He bought in for another $200 and continued this same line of play. This time, however, he started hitting his hands. I tried to play back at him a couple times, but the cards just weren’t coming for me to continue to punish him after the flop. It got very frustrating.
KEY HAND:
The aggro guy was in the BB and I was in the cut-off. There were three limpers when the action got to me and I decided to limp with As4s. The button and the SB also limped and the BB raised it to $12. One of the limpers called and I called, so we were three-handed to the flop.
My reasoning for making this call was that 1) he had been playing and raising with all sorts of hands, so 2) there was a good chance that I had the best hand, but if I didn’t, then 3) the flop could hit me over the head and I could punish him, but 4) I don’t want to re-raise here because he could still have a real hand and if he comes back over the top, I have to fold. Obviously, if the board bricks or an A comes on the flop and there’s a bet, it’s an easy fold for me.
The flop came out 3c5s7h.
Mr. Aggro immediately bet $100 into the $46 pot and the other caller folded. With the action on me, I tanked. I wanted so badly to play this hand, but my stack had dwindled to about $230, and I was afraid of losing the chips, especially after I had been up so much earlier. I ended up folding and the Mr. Aggro showed KK. However, the more I’ve thought about it, the more I think I should have played, and here’s why:
Obviously, in the face of the $100 bet on the flop, I would have re-raised for my whole stack. There was a good enough chance that I still had the best hand and that he would have folded to make that a good play.
After the flop, I had a double-belly straight draw (8 outs), I think any A on the board would make me good (3 outs), and I could have gone runner-runner flush (8 outs), for a total of 19 outs. By my amateur math, that put me at about 50/50 to win the hand after the flop. If you factor in that I would have had to go runner-runner for the flush, let’s call it 45% that I win.
As we all know, though, the math is just one part of the game. You also have to take into account the table dynamic and whom you’re up against in each hand. In this case I feel like I was almost obligated to play this hand, based on my opponent. He had been pushing and pushing and it was time for someone at the table to really push back. I missed my chance.
What got in the way of making the right decision was my fear of losing my money. In the future, I can’t let my fear of losing cloud my judgment on what I now know would have been both a mathematically, as well as, for lack of a better word, emotionally, correct decision.
I ended up cashing out with a +$50 session, but I’ll always remember this hand and focus on making good decisions, regardless of how much money is involved.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Jealousy In The Poker Room
I consider myself a humble man. I don't feel any sense of entitlement in any part of my life. I understand that you can achieve whatever you want if you're willing to work hard enough for it.
But when I frequent my local card room, I feel this pang of jealousy whenever I see this one person.
I began playing poker about eight years ago. At the time, Colorado Gaming only allowed for $5 max betting in any game in a casino, including poker. As a result, there were two kinds of poker games to play: a $2/$5 game with a single $2 blind and a $5/$5 game with a $2 small blind and a $5 big blind (This game was NUTS. The betting would routinely get capped six ways pre-flop by the crazy Asians playing this game. And I mean no disrespect; I'm just stating a fact. There were mostly Asians playing this particular game and based on the betting and raising that was happening, they were fucking crazy.). Because I was a novice, I stuck to the $2/$5 game.
And of course I started getting familiar with a lot of the players and dealers. One player in particular caught my attention because it was a woman and women were pretty scarce in the poker room. I played with her on more than one occasion and it was obvious that she was a newbie like me.
Over the years I've seen her at various casinos, either playing in a tournament or a cash game.
Just over two years ago, Colorado Gaming pulled their proverbial head out from in between their buttocks and raised the gaming limits to $100 max bet on all games. This included poker, and the casinos now run games from $4/$8 limit to $1/$2/$100 cap "no limit" to $30/$60 limit, in addition to any number of tournaments.
What recently caught my attention is that this unnamed female is spending a lot of time in the same poker room at me. At the $30/$60 game. A game that routinely has between $15,000 and $25,000 in chips on the table at any one time. With the crazy Asians.
And I'm stuck grinding away at $4/$8. And I'm jealous.
It's very obvious to me that she's worked on her poker game. That's the only way she could have built the sort of bankroll it takes to play in that game. Over the last eight years, she's studied and put in the practice and hard work to improve her poker game.
It's study and practice I really wish I had put in. Then maybe I wouldn't be stuck in the same job I was in back then. Then maybe I could be playing in the big game with the crazy Asians.
I decided last year to finally put in the work and practice it would take to become a professional poker player. I got a couple books. I played a couple tournaments pretty well and had a few small cashes. But I'm still not there. Little things get in the way of that pursuit; you know, things like work and bills and rent and food.
Anyway, I think that this jealousy can only be a good thing, really. That woman's development as a poker player is evidence that hard work and practice will work and that I can still improve my poker game significantly. And it's probably a good thing that I see her in that game every time I go play. She's a constant reminder of what I want to become.
Her and those damn crazy Asians.
But when I frequent my local card room, I feel this pang of jealousy whenever I see this one person.
I began playing poker about eight years ago. At the time, Colorado Gaming only allowed for $5 max betting in any game in a casino, including poker. As a result, there were two kinds of poker games to play: a $2/$5 game with a single $2 blind and a $5/$5 game with a $2 small blind and a $5 big blind (This game was NUTS. The betting would routinely get capped six ways pre-flop by the crazy Asians playing this game. And I mean no disrespect; I'm just stating a fact. There were mostly Asians playing this particular game and based on the betting and raising that was happening, they were fucking crazy.). Because I was a novice, I stuck to the $2/$5 game.
And of course I started getting familiar with a lot of the players and dealers. One player in particular caught my attention because it was a woman and women were pretty scarce in the poker room. I played with her on more than one occasion and it was obvious that she was a newbie like me.
Over the years I've seen her at various casinos, either playing in a tournament or a cash game.
Just over two years ago, Colorado Gaming pulled their proverbial head out from in between their buttocks and raised the gaming limits to $100 max bet on all games. This included poker, and the casinos now run games from $4/$8 limit to $1/$2/$100 cap "no limit" to $30/$60 limit, in addition to any number of tournaments.
What recently caught my attention is that this unnamed female is spending a lot of time in the same poker room at me. At the $30/$60 game. A game that routinely has between $15,000 and $25,000 in chips on the table at any one time. With the crazy Asians.
And I'm stuck grinding away at $4/$8. And I'm jealous.
It's very obvious to me that she's worked on her poker game. That's the only way she could have built the sort of bankroll it takes to play in that game. Over the last eight years, she's studied and put in the practice and hard work to improve her poker game.
It's study and practice I really wish I had put in. Then maybe I wouldn't be stuck in the same job I was in back then. Then maybe I could be playing in the big game with the crazy Asians.
I decided last year to finally put in the work and practice it would take to become a professional poker player. I got a couple books. I played a couple tournaments pretty well and had a few small cashes. But I'm still not there. Little things get in the way of that pursuit; you know, things like work and bills and rent and food.
Anyway, I think that this jealousy can only be a good thing, really. That woman's development as a poker player is evidence that hard work and practice will work and that I can still improve my poker game significantly. And it's probably a good thing that I see her in that game every time I go play. She's a constant reminder of what I want to become.
Her and those damn crazy Asians.
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