Warning: The following is a bad beat story. Things are going well the last two weeks for this blogger despite his horrible luck in MTTs. If you want to skip this message and call the following blogger a whiny little pissant, it's justified and he won't hate you for it.
FOURTH HAND in a $5.50 SnG on Pokeroom.
I'm dealt Q,Q in MP, action was folded to me, I raise to $100.
Two callers.
Flop comes J,4,4.
I bet $300, about a fourth of my early stack, hoping to take the nice pot down right there.
Guy to my left pushes all in, other guy folds.
I don't put him on the four. I realize this is a $5 SnG tournament, and it's Donkeyland, but I still don't put him on a 4. If he had Quad 4s, then nice hand, sir.
I'm right. He turns over J,Q.
I have him totally dominated. He only has two outs, a J, left in the deck to help him. I'm over 95 percent to win.
The turn?
J.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
The greatest tournament I ever played
400 entrants.
A nice prize at the end.
Mom and the fam rooting for me on a vacation to KC.
The baby all happy and ready for bed.
A cold beer by my side.
Full from dinner, bladder empty.
A pre-apology from me to Mom and her new husband and my wife that it might take three hours, but I finally have time for a fun MTT because I'm on vacation.
I register.
I'm excited.
First hand, I have a flush draw.
The third spade falls.
Sweet, a good start.
The guy pushes me all in.
He has two pair.
He gets his full house on the river.
I'm done.
A nice prize at the end.
Mom and the fam rooting for me on a vacation to KC.
The baby all happy and ready for bed.
A cold beer by my side.
Full from dinner, bladder empty.
A pre-apology from me to Mom and her new husband and my wife that it might take three hours, but I finally have time for a fun MTT because I'm on vacation.
I register.
I'm excited.
First hand, I have a flush draw.
The third spade falls.
Sweet, a good start.
The guy pushes me all in.
He has two pair.
He gets his full house on the river.
I'm done.
Monday, December 26, 2005
One of us, One of us.....
So I was in a SnG, three people left, a timid yet wild player (the worst kind) third, me first and the Enemy second. I've donked off good chip lead after I gambled with 5,5 and won on an all-in play.
I knew, at least, if I just waited out the third player, I'd be in the money (these are shorthanded), then go to town on the other guy and try to take this thing.
This was after another SnG when I had J,J and went against 3,3 (huh?) and the guy sucked out his 3 on the river, so I was a little steamed, and yet, I played patiently and well.
I have A,8 and it's a short table, so I raise, and Enemy calls. That doesn't worry me too much. This guy was aggressive, aggressive, aggressive all day.
J,8,6 rainbow comes down, and I bet fairly hard, about 3/4ths of the pot. The guy goes all in.
I call.
He flips over J,6.
I'm out.
Wow. I played exactly like him.
That's the problem.
Donkeys are contagious. They have a disease called donkey-itis, and it causes you to make wild, even stupid, moves. It causes you to play exactly like them. It causes you to play like a donkey.
It's reassuring to look at those hand histories and see that, yes, the guy called you down with third pair, or he didn't have anything, or even when he had top pair with low kicker and currently is whining about online poker being rigged.
But it's also dangerous.
Everytime I see that, I find myself relaxing too much. "He won't have anything the next time I bet hard, so I can just bet hard on anything, and I'll beat him," my brain tells me.
Nope.
Players like that, in fact, are harder to read. Last night I played with two donkeys and two real players, and the solid players were much easier to play with. Every time they raised, unless I had a monster, I folded. I knew they had it. Sure enough, every time, they did.
(You could debate and say that they, too, were donkeys in a way, since you can't be that predictable either, and I would agree, but for the online world, at .25, I call them solid players. At least they understand the game).
I called one donkey's all-in when I had J,J and 10,8,3 came down, thinking that I had raised and he probably had 10 with a good kicker. Sure enough, thank you, $15 profit.
But that move has bitten me many times before, when a donkey makes a big bet and I'm calling, already counting my chips, only to watch them get snatched away by his trips.
In fact, I suffered a bad losing streak a couple weeks ago, and most of the hands played out like this.
Over and over, Harrington and Sklansky tell you to play the opposite of the people at the table.
Play solid, and you will win, at .25 NL
You don't have to join their stable.
It makes sense to me.
Why doesn't it make sense to my brain?
I knew, at least, if I just waited out the third player, I'd be in the money (these are shorthanded), then go to town on the other guy and try to take this thing.
This was after another SnG when I had J,J and went against 3,3 (huh?) and the guy sucked out his 3 on the river, so I was a little steamed, and yet, I played patiently and well.
I have A,8 and it's a short table, so I raise, and Enemy calls. That doesn't worry me too much. This guy was aggressive, aggressive, aggressive all day.
J,8,6 rainbow comes down, and I bet fairly hard, about 3/4ths of the pot. The guy goes all in.
I call.
He flips over J,6.
I'm out.
Wow. I played exactly like him.
That's the problem.
Donkeys are contagious. They have a disease called donkey-itis, and it causes you to make wild, even stupid, moves. It causes you to play exactly like them. It causes you to play like a donkey.
It's reassuring to look at those hand histories and see that, yes, the guy called you down with third pair, or he didn't have anything, or even when he had top pair with low kicker and currently is whining about online poker being rigged.
But it's also dangerous.
Everytime I see that, I find myself relaxing too much. "He won't have anything the next time I bet hard, so I can just bet hard on anything, and I'll beat him," my brain tells me.
Nope.
Players like that, in fact, are harder to read. Last night I played with two donkeys and two real players, and the solid players were much easier to play with. Every time they raised, unless I had a monster, I folded. I knew they had it. Sure enough, every time, they did.
(You could debate and say that they, too, were donkeys in a way, since you can't be that predictable either, and I would agree, but for the online world, at .25, I call them solid players. At least they understand the game).
I called one donkey's all-in when I had J,J and 10,8,3 came down, thinking that I had raised and he probably had 10 with a good kicker. Sure enough, thank you, $15 profit.
But that move has bitten me many times before, when a donkey makes a big bet and I'm calling, already counting my chips, only to watch them get snatched away by his trips.
In fact, I suffered a bad losing streak a couple weeks ago, and most of the hands played out like this.
Over and over, Harrington and Sklansky tell you to play the opposite of the people at the table.
Play solid, and you will win, at .25 NL
You don't have to join their stable.
It makes sense to me.
Why doesn't it make sense to my brain?
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Learning how to lose
If you want to play poker reguarly, make it more than a weekly game with friends, and actually hope to make money consistently, you don't need to learn how to win.
You need to learn how to lose.
That's not exactly true, of course. You must learn how to play, and the masters will help you with that. Harrington, Sklansky, Brunson, Gordon, Greenstein, etc., will help you develop the fundamentals and skills you need to play the ring games and tournaments well, especially how to beat all the donkeys online.
But in order to not only win consistently but enjoy the game, you've got to learn to lose.
That's what I need to learn.
Three weeks ago, I went through the worst losing streak of my short time playing poker, dropping more than $100 and taking bad beat after bad beat (and also making stupid decisions on a few others). The experience was gut-wrenching, nerve-wracking, and I even lost sleep over it.
It was only a week, and in the scheme of things, it wasn't a big deal, since I was far ahead. In fact, the stock market corrects itself all the time, and that's really what this is, a correction of a good, but not great, poker player's bankroll. I wasn't going to dominate all the time.
And yet, when I won, I almost expected it, like, "well, I was getting good cards, so of course I won." As I was losing, I would replay the hands over and over, and every time, I came to one conclusion: You suck.
Last week, I made a comeback, only to lose most of it near the end of the week, shaking my confidence even more.
So, this week, another correction, only in a good sense. I'm winning a lot. I'm getting great hands, and I'm getting great action on those hands (and you have to be lucky on both counts in that regard).
And yet, instead of rushing to the computer every night, as you might think I am, I'm hestiating to play.
I don't want the good feeling to go away.
I'm afraid to lose.
I won $15 in a SnG last night and won $30 in rings, and yet, and the end of the night, I played another site and lost $5.
That's what I'm thinking about today.
Pathetic.
If you are afraid to lose in poker, you don't win. That's the way it goes. You can play hands well and lose. You can play hands perfectly and lose. You can play a hand horribly and win. That's poker and that's life.
Maybe, eventually, I'll figure that out.
You need to learn how to lose.
That's not exactly true, of course. You must learn how to play, and the masters will help you with that. Harrington, Sklansky, Brunson, Gordon, Greenstein, etc., will help you develop the fundamentals and skills you need to play the ring games and tournaments well, especially how to beat all the donkeys online.
But in order to not only win consistently but enjoy the game, you've got to learn to lose.
That's what I need to learn.
Three weeks ago, I went through the worst losing streak of my short time playing poker, dropping more than $100 and taking bad beat after bad beat (and also making stupid decisions on a few others). The experience was gut-wrenching, nerve-wracking, and I even lost sleep over it.
It was only a week, and in the scheme of things, it wasn't a big deal, since I was far ahead. In fact, the stock market corrects itself all the time, and that's really what this is, a correction of a good, but not great, poker player's bankroll. I wasn't going to dominate all the time.
And yet, when I won, I almost expected it, like, "well, I was getting good cards, so of course I won." As I was losing, I would replay the hands over and over, and every time, I came to one conclusion: You suck.
Last week, I made a comeback, only to lose most of it near the end of the week, shaking my confidence even more.
So, this week, another correction, only in a good sense. I'm winning a lot. I'm getting great hands, and I'm getting great action on those hands (and you have to be lucky on both counts in that regard).
And yet, instead of rushing to the computer every night, as you might think I am, I'm hestiating to play.
I don't want the good feeling to go away.
I'm afraid to lose.
I won $15 in a SnG last night and won $30 in rings, and yet, and the end of the night, I played another site and lost $5.
That's what I'm thinking about today.
Pathetic.
If you are afraid to lose in poker, you don't win. That's the way it goes. You can play hands well and lose. You can play hands perfectly and lose. You can play a hand horribly and win. That's poker and that's life.
Maybe, eventually, I'll figure that out.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Clearing points can clear your bankroll
As I wait, ever-so-slowly, for more trip reports to creep in from all the Las Vegas bloggers (get on it, Poker Geek and Change 100), a thought occured to me.
It's taking longer to clear my points at Hollywood Poker than it is for all these bloggers to turn in reports.
I have a Mac, so I am not as much of a bonus whore as the lot of you, but I'm still taking advantage of promotions when they come.
The problem is, I do not have a huge bankroll. There are three reasons for this:
1) I have a 6-month-old, and babies eat money more than they eat formula (which, by the way, costs $25 a can).
2) I am a reporter, and reporters make about $1.25 an hour.
3) I am not Phil Ivey. I am not even Phil Ivey's brother. I like fish, and can eat fish like the rest of you all, sometimes by the finfull and sometimes all night, and yet, at times, I find the old adage You Are What You Eat is so very, very true.
So, I play .25. I do well there. Pretty darn well, in fact, if I do say so myself. Well enough to think about buying a new computer with the money after a few more months.
But playing .25 doesn't help you clear your bonus quickly. And that encourages me to stay on.
And the best way to lose money is to play beyond your streak.
The last couple of nights, I've swallowed huge pots early. Now, when you do that, you expend a certain amount of energy in taking the chance, analyzing the situation and then feeling the elation after you collect your money.
In fact, it takes much more energy to play a big pot once than to play conservative, card-dead poker for an hour-and-a-half.
But, when I win a couple big pots early, normallly I'd jump off, pat myself on the back and call it a night.
Now I'm pressured to keep playing to get the points, and whether I know it or not, I don't have the mental energy for it after a few big pots.
Ring games are by far the hardest game for me, even though they are usually full of donating donkeys. When you've only got a certain amount of money to spend on poker, you know that one mistake can cost you. In a tournament, I'm (usually) able to recover from a lost pot, and if I can't, well, I've only spent $5-$20 for an hour or two of poker, right?
During last week's painful, soul-crushing losing streak, I, in fact, was up several times, but I ignored the voice in my head, the "stop now, you've done enough" voice, because the other voice said, "Well, you only need 40 more points for your $25!."
This week, during my winning streak, I have quit while I was far ahead.
So far, it's worked.
I wonder, in fact, if the difference between winning and losing streaks is just knowing when to quit.
Bonuses, after all, are no good if you don't have a bankroll to put it in.
It's taking longer to clear my points at Hollywood Poker than it is for all these bloggers to turn in reports.
I have a Mac, so I am not as much of a bonus whore as the lot of you, but I'm still taking advantage of promotions when they come.
The problem is, I do not have a huge bankroll. There are three reasons for this:
1) I have a 6-month-old, and babies eat money more than they eat formula (which, by the way, costs $25 a can).
2) I am a reporter, and reporters make about $1.25 an hour.
3) I am not Phil Ivey. I am not even Phil Ivey's brother. I like fish, and can eat fish like the rest of you all, sometimes by the finfull and sometimes all night, and yet, at times, I find the old adage You Are What You Eat is so very, very true.
So, I play .25. I do well there. Pretty darn well, in fact, if I do say so myself. Well enough to think about buying a new computer with the money after a few more months.
But playing .25 doesn't help you clear your bonus quickly. And that encourages me to stay on.
And the best way to lose money is to play beyond your streak.
The last couple of nights, I've swallowed huge pots early. Now, when you do that, you expend a certain amount of energy in taking the chance, analyzing the situation and then feeling the elation after you collect your money.
In fact, it takes much more energy to play a big pot once than to play conservative, card-dead poker for an hour-and-a-half.
But, when I win a couple big pots early, normallly I'd jump off, pat myself on the back and call it a night.
Now I'm pressured to keep playing to get the points, and whether I know it or not, I don't have the mental energy for it after a few big pots.
Ring games are by far the hardest game for me, even though they are usually full of donating donkeys. When you've only got a certain amount of money to spend on poker, you know that one mistake can cost you. In a tournament, I'm (usually) able to recover from a lost pot, and if I can't, well, I've only spent $5-$20 for an hour or two of poker, right?
During last week's painful, soul-crushing losing streak, I, in fact, was up several times, but I ignored the voice in my head, the "stop now, you've done enough" voice, because the other voice said, "Well, you only need 40 more points for your $25!."
This week, during my winning streak, I have quit while I was far ahead.
So far, it's worked.
I wonder, in fact, if the difference between winning and losing streaks is just knowing when to quit.
Bonuses, after all, are no good if you don't have a bankroll to put it in.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Bless you, Poker Gods
OK, OK, Poker Gods, after making me your Job, you have rewarded me with riches. Thank you for flopping me two straights and giving me a table full of donkeys who thought they could bluff me off with a pair of sixes after one measly check from me BOTH times. Thank you for challenging me with four suckouts on an SnG and yet allowing me to win the second one. Thank you for giving me trip aces. Thank you for actually allowing me to win with a pocket two pair for once.
I know now you were just making me a much better player. I can feel it. I will be more cautious now of three suits on one board, of paired boards, of straight draws, no matter what I have in my hand. I know now two pair is not a monster hand, nor should it be treated as such.
Thank you Poker Gods. No need for another massive, painful streak ever again. I am humble, now, Poker Gods. You won't find me bragging about my good fortune ever again.
Bless you. I will say five statements from the Theory of Poker in your honor tonight.
I know now you were just making me a much better player. I can feel it. I will be more cautious now of three suits on one board, of paired boards, of straight draws, no matter what I have in my hand. I know now two pair is not a monster hand, nor should it be treated as such.
Thank you Poker Gods. No need for another massive, painful streak ever again. I am humble, now, Poker Gods. You won't find me bragging about my good fortune ever again.
Bless you. I will say five statements from the Theory of Poker in your honor tonight.
Friday, December 09, 2005
I'm Sorry, so Sorry
Dear Poker Gods:
OK, I deserve to be punished for my braggy, I-have-all-the-luck-in-the-world post. Boy, was that arrogant of me. Yep, Arrogant. What can I say? I was feeling good, that kind of feeling in poker you rarely get, when all your small pockets turn into sets, when all your draws land ever-so-softly on the runway, when all your two pairs turn into full houses.
You're right. I deserved to have my nut flush with A,K lose to four of a kind. I deserved to have my top two pair with K,Q lose to a guy and his set of puny little 2s. I truly deserved to have my A,A cracked by K,9. Of course I do. I definitely deserved to have my A,K lose to A,2, or my A,Q lose to A,7, or my A,K lose to 3,3 when he gets the river on the FUCKING flop. Yep, I deserve it all, Poker Gods. I truly do. Or when I bet hard on top pair against a donkey and he catches his 7 on the river for two pair. I do deserve it all, Gods. I really do. Even when you give me hands, like trips in small pairs, they are ruined by draws or flushes, meaning I have to bet them hard and get minimal payment.
But here's the thing. We're done now. I bragged a little bit, Poker Gods. After five hours of grinding at the .25 cent tables, Poker Gods, surrounded by so many fish, you're starting to think you're Nemo, just waiting, oh Gods, waiting for a hand to get them with, knowing that if you are paitent enough, five hours of paitent, you'll get them.
And just as you are signing off, you get 10,8,K, rainbow, and you have 10,8. It's not a strong hand against an experienced player, but you know this guy will call you with anything.
And you bet hard, the guy calls.
And the 7 falls.
You know you're fucked, especially when the guys pushes in all his chips, $8 left, all your money, by the way, from those earlier races, but you have to call, not believing that this week could end like this.
Yeah.
It can.
That's just cruel, Poker Gods. Now I'm beginning to think, in fact, you are not God. You are Satan. You must be. No God, at least not my God, would torture me like this. There's punishment, and then there's just hanging me over the fire and watching me writhe in agony as you laugh, laugh, laugh.I played my grindy ass off four five hours, and you fucking give the donkey a 7?
Fuck you, Poker Gods. Fuck you. Fuck all your tortue and punishment and stringing me along so you can get your kicks on Route 66.
You owe me a winning streak this week, Gods. Sorry, but you do. One major suckout a night. Draws that hit. Trips. And all of it should be called by donkeys with large stacks.
Oh yes.
And no bragging when it happens.
I promise.
OK, I deserve to be punished for my braggy, I-have-all-the-luck-in-the-world post. Boy, was that arrogant of me. Yep, Arrogant. What can I say? I was feeling good, that kind of feeling in poker you rarely get, when all your small pockets turn into sets, when all your draws land ever-so-softly on the runway, when all your two pairs turn into full houses.
You're right. I deserved to have my nut flush with A,K lose to four of a kind. I deserved to have my top two pair with K,Q lose to a guy and his set of puny little 2s. I truly deserved to have my A,A cracked by K,9. Of course I do. I definitely deserved to have my A,K lose to A,2, or my A,Q lose to A,7, or my A,K lose to 3,3 when he gets the river on the FUCKING flop. Yep, I deserve it all, Poker Gods. I truly do. Or when I bet hard on top pair against a donkey and he catches his 7 on the river for two pair. I do deserve it all, Gods. I really do. Even when you give me hands, like trips in small pairs, they are ruined by draws or flushes, meaning I have to bet them hard and get minimal payment.
But here's the thing. We're done now. I bragged a little bit, Poker Gods. After five hours of grinding at the .25 cent tables, Poker Gods, surrounded by so many fish, you're starting to think you're Nemo, just waiting, oh Gods, waiting for a hand to get them with, knowing that if you are paitent enough, five hours of paitent, you'll get them.
And just as you are signing off, you get 10,8,K, rainbow, and you have 10,8. It's not a strong hand against an experienced player, but you know this guy will call you with anything.
And you bet hard, the guy calls.
And the 7 falls.
You know you're fucked, especially when the guys pushes in all his chips, $8 left, all your money, by the way, from those earlier races, but you have to call, not believing that this week could end like this.
Yeah.
It can.
That's just cruel, Poker Gods. Now I'm beginning to think, in fact, you are not God. You are Satan. You must be. No God, at least not my God, would torture me like this. There's punishment, and then there's just hanging me over the fire and watching me writhe in agony as you laugh, laugh, laugh.I played my grindy ass off four five hours, and you fucking give the donkey a 7?
Fuck you, Poker Gods. Fuck you. Fuck all your tortue and punishment and stringing me along so you can get your kicks on Route 66.
You owe me a winning streak this week, Gods. Sorry, but you do. One major suckout a night. Draws that hit. Trips. And all of it should be called by donkeys with large stacks.
Oh yes.
And no bragging when it happens.
I promise.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
oops
Never tempt the poker gods by bragging about your bounty. I am now $60 down over the last two days at Hollywood. I won't go through the sad, long list of bad beats, but the worst was getting the nut flush with A,K and losing to a guy who had 7,7 with two 7s on the board. Yeah. Lost $25 on that one.
Please, forgive me, poker Gods! I'll sacrifice my big blind! I'm playing tight! I'll respect the button! I'll bow to anyone's aces.
Please, please, please, poker gods, I'm sorry.
Please, forgive me, poker Gods! I'll sacrifice my big blind! I'm playing tight! I'll respect the button! I'll bow to anyone's aces.
Please, please, please, poker gods, I'm sorry.
Friday, December 02, 2005
On a rush
I am that person you hate.
The suckout King.
I've been on quite a rush the last couple of days, the kind of rush where you are a genius all the time for going all in with 10,10 because even though the guy turns over Q,Q you will win, and sure enough, you spike the 10 on the river for a $50 pot.
It's the kind of run when you can't get knocked out of a SnG, even though you go all in with 3,3 and the guy has K,K because you get the straight.
It's also the kind of rush when you have 3,3, sneak in cheaply, and you get 10,10,3 on the flop, and you raise, and you get not only one but two callers, and they both call your all in.
This is what makes poker so addictive. You scrape and scratch all year for runs like these, when you can do no wrong, even when you do wrong.
And the best thing? This follows a two-week struggle of missed flushes, frozen flops, horrible rivers and bad suckouts on your own. You were down, way down at Hollywood trying to clear a bonus, and the only thing that helped you was your old standbys, the SnGs.
I hope this lasts tommorow, Saturday. I love the confidence I feel right now, the action, the hands coming my way.
The trick is to keep the confidence but forget about these last couple of nights. They don't happen all the time. They don't even happen most of the time.
But when they do, well, that's why we play poker.
The suckout King.
I've been on quite a rush the last couple of days, the kind of rush where you are a genius all the time for going all in with 10,10 because even though the guy turns over Q,Q you will win, and sure enough, you spike the 10 on the river for a $50 pot.
It's the kind of run when you can't get knocked out of a SnG, even though you go all in with 3,3 and the guy has K,K because you get the straight.
It's also the kind of rush when you have 3,3, sneak in cheaply, and you get 10,10,3 on the flop, and you raise, and you get not only one but two callers, and they both call your all in.
This is what makes poker so addictive. You scrape and scratch all year for runs like these, when you can do no wrong, even when you do wrong.
And the best thing? This follows a two-week struggle of missed flushes, frozen flops, horrible rivers and bad suckouts on your own. You were down, way down at Hollywood trying to clear a bonus, and the only thing that helped you was your old standbys, the SnGs.
I hope this lasts tommorow, Saturday. I love the confidence I feel right now, the action, the hands coming my way.
The trick is to keep the confidence but forget about these last couple of nights. They don't happen all the time. They don't even happen most of the time.
But when they do, well, that's why we play poker.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
