1. What is the biggest mistake people make at a NL table?
Calling, not raising or folding. This applies to NL as well as Limit, in my mind. My biggest mistake is playing too tight.
2. What is the biggest mistake people make at a Limit table?
See above, but not folding soon enough, which isn't quite the same as calling.
3. Why do you play poker?
I love games. I caught the poker bug from a home game I played at just for fun and now it's a great way to pass the time in the evenings.
4. If you weren't playing poker, what would you be doing?
I run, climb mountains, play softball, play X-Box, spend time with the fam, but mostly I'd probably be reading or doing something productive, lol.
5. What is your favorite poker book and why?
Harrington's books are simply awesome. I also liked Phil Gordon's Little Green Book.
6. Who is your favorite poker player and why?
I have too many for many different reasons, but the guy I admire most is Phil Ivey because of his ability to read hands so well.
7. Which poker player do you dislike the most and why?
Shawn Sheikan. I'm not even bothering to see if I spelled is name right. What a jackass.
8. Do your coworkers know about your blog?
A couple.
9. What is the most you have won in a cash game or MTT (both live and online)?
Cash game was that $171 I picked up recently in a casino (hey, I'm new, back off). Online I once cleared $85 in a .25 NL game. Basically because of my conservative play, I'm never going to have monster nights unless the cards really come my way.
10. What is the most you have lost in a cash game or in one day total (both live and online)?
I haven't lost much more than $25 in a day. See above for the reason why.
11. Who was your first poker blog read?
Pot Committed. I love her writing.
12. What satisfies you more, your aces holding up for a big pot or a bluff working for a big pot?
AA if I played them correctly.
13. Why do you blog?
I love to write and I write for a living, so blogging helps me sort out my own thoughts about the game as well as try to share tips with others. I don't think it's very good, especially for my standards of my own writing, but it does help me sort out my thoughts.
14. Do you read blogs from an RSS reader like bloglines or do you visit each blog?
I just read what I have linked from my own blog.
15. Would you rather play poker for a living than do what you currently do for a living?
Poker for a living? Hell no. It's far too much fun for that; it would be really hard to make a living from it. I'd be a stressbag.
16. Do you wear a tin foil hat on occasion?
No. But occasionally I wear donkey ears.
17. If you had to pin it down to one specific trait, what does a great poker player have (or do) that separates them from an average player?
The ability to put players on a hand. Anyone can bluff and play a big hand aggressively, but I'm amazed at how well the pros can put a guy on a hand.
18. Is Drizz the coolest person on the planet for naming his baby Vegas?
Drizz really seems more like the geeky type (even if he does play softball), which is another reason why I love his blog, but I have to admit, that's an extremely cool move.
19. What is your primary poker goal and are you close to accomplishing it?
To finish ahead at the end of the year, and I'm going to have to lose a lot to not make that goal.
20. What is your primary online site and why?
Hollywood Poker for the good reload bonuses and Pokerroom because I have a Mac.
21. What site do you dislike and why?
I don't realy dislike one.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Nice try
Note to gas station:
You can play Barry White's "You're My First, My Last, My Everything" all you want.
It doesn't ease the pain of paying $3 a gallon at all.
Not even a little bit.
You can play Barry White's "You're My First, My Last, My Everything" all you want.
It doesn't ease the pain of paying $3 a gallon at all.
Not even a little bit.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Grab the fish money before your opponents do
OK, I'm not Felicia Lee, and after bubbling out of my SnG last night when I was in second place deep into the tournament (hint, K-10 is NOT a hand to go to war with, ever, even four-handed, yes, even sooooted) I'm not sure I should be giving any poker advice, but here goes.
Dan's Guide To Winning (Or Cashing, Which Is Good Enough At Times) SnGs:
(it's a short list)
You know how to play tight/aggressive, follow up your raises with continuation bets, play your high pocket pairs strong, etc., etc., etc., so here's just one piece of advice.
Grab the fish money before it disappears.
Conventional wisdom says to play tight in the beginning and loosen up as the blinds get higher and the pots get bigger.
It's good advice.
It's also wrong.
More and more, I'm cashing and winning more SnGs because I go after fish money.
In the beginning of an SnG, especially a full table SnG, you'll always find fish ready and willing to give their money over to the highest bidder, or at least those with TPTK.
I play low-stakes SnGs. And I'd say, at every full table, I can find at least four fish who are just begging to hand you their chips.
Shorthanded? I'd say 2/5.
Higher levels, like the $10 or even $20 SnGs? There are less out there. But they're still there.
It's your job to eat those chips before another shark grabs the snack.
So, in the beginning of a tournament, if I have TPTK, I play it hard. I might even move all in if challenged.
Most of the time, I'm right.
If a guy moves all in right away, I immeaditely lower my hand requirements. I might even call with A,J, but I would certainly call with A,Q or a pocket pair 10,10 or higher.
Grab that money while you can.
In the middle of the tournament, once the blood leaves the water, I tend to play even tigher than conventional wisdom says to play in the beginning. Oh, I'll still play strong hands aggressively, but it better be really strong, like 10-20 percent strong. Why? This is when most of the fish money is gone, and the other players, panicked over seeing some big stacks (like yours, hopefully, if you've gobbed a fish or two), tend to fight a little hard over the scraps. They get themselves pot committed even when they don't really need to do so.
In the last third of the tournament, I loosen up again and try to bully a bit and also steal when I can. But I'm still not a maniac. By this time, you've probably built a fairly high stack and just need to wait it out to cash. It doesn't always work. But it usually does.
Bait your hook with TPTK and reel in that fish money. You'll find your bankroll growing fatter off the krill.
Dan's Guide To Winning (Or Cashing, Which Is Good Enough At Times) SnGs:
(it's a short list)
You know how to play tight/aggressive, follow up your raises with continuation bets, play your high pocket pairs strong, etc., etc., etc., so here's just one piece of advice.
Grab the fish money before it disappears.
Conventional wisdom says to play tight in the beginning and loosen up as the blinds get higher and the pots get bigger.
It's good advice.
It's also wrong.
More and more, I'm cashing and winning more SnGs because I go after fish money.
In the beginning of an SnG, especially a full table SnG, you'll always find fish ready and willing to give their money over to the highest bidder, or at least those with TPTK.
I play low-stakes SnGs. And I'd say, at every full table, I can find at least four fish who are just begging to hand you their chips.
Shorthanded? I'd say 2/5.
Higher levels, like the $10 or even $20 SnGs? There are less out there. But they're still there.
It's your job to eat those chips before another shark grabs the snack.
So, in the beginning of a tournament, if I have TPTK, I play it hard. I might even move all in if challenged.
Most of the time, I'm right.
If a guy moves all in right away, I immeaditely lower my hand requirements. I might even call with A,J, but I would certainly call with A,Q or a pocket pair 10,10 or higher.
Grab that money while you can.
In the middle of the tournament, once the blood leaves the water, I tend to play even tigher than conventional wisdom says to play in the beginning. Oh, I'll still play strong hands aggressively, but it better be really strong, like 10-20 percent strong. Why? This is when most of the fish money is gone, and the other players, panicked over seeing some big stacks (like yours, hopefully, if you've gobbed a fish or two), tend to fight a little hard over the scraps. They get themselves pot committed even when they don't really need to do so.
In the last third of the tournament, I loosen up again and try to bully a bit and also steal when I can. But I'm still not a maniac. By this time, you've probably built a fairly high stack and just need to wait it out to cash. It doesn't always work. But it usually does.
Bait your hook with TPTK and reel in that fish money. You'll find your bankroll growing fatter off the krill.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Blowing the head off a zombie can be theraputic
Poker is going well again, and I think I know why.
Have the suckouts stopped? They're not as plentiful, but they're almost more painful, many times the difference between a cash or the bigger payoffs or first and second (lately, the trend is for me to have the villian dominanted, only for him/her to get the fucking other card on the river for two-pair; last night my A,Q versus her Q,8 on a Q-high flop cost me $10 when she got her 8 on the river).
So, no, they haven't stopped. So what's the difference?
I've added a little violence to my life.
Don't worry. The dog's fine, the wife gets hugs and kisses and the only violence the baby feels is when he's tossed in the air two feet above my chest, which, by the way, he loves. That and an occasional tickle.
But I'm blowing the heads of lots of zombies, aliens and the occasional innocent.
The X-Box has really helped me decompress and, in some cases, take out some frustration after a long and difficult SnG that ends in yet another suckout. The current choice is Doom 64, but I've also played Fable a second time (this time I was Evil, slaughtering innocents on the path along the way, I just pretended they were poker donkeys and it really helped) and will move onto Half-Life and Gun soon enough.
I've discovered I must do something else every night other than play poker. I like to play an SnG a night and spend an hour at a cash game.
In between, I shoot and kill as much as I can. I stop when I'm starting to jones for poker. I have a clear head when I get to the cash game, and since I started decompressing, I'm way up in my cash game.
A cash game, especially online, is all about patience, but it's hard to have patience when you're pissed and, I hate to say it, tilting.
Blow the head off a zombie. It will give you patience.
Side note: I'm really digging NBC's "National Heads-Up Poker Challenge." It's a great format, almost like the NCAA tournament, and is a wonderful change from the long line of poker tournaments. Plus Gabe Kaplan is probably the best poker commentator out there. He's even better than Lederer and far better than Vince "Frat Boy" Van Patton.
But the theme music is cheesy. Like Supertramp or Air Supply cheesy.
NBC treats poker like it was a cribbage tournament, acting SHOCKED at the Shiek's "antics" and asking Doyle Brunson about it and assigning a guy to call the action who knows NOTHING about poker (thank God Kaplan is there or else it'd get really bad). Here's how he calls the match: HE CALLS!!!! I'm sorry, but I could that.
Poker ain't a nice game. Don't try to make it so by giving it a funny little theme song and treating it like the Olympics.
Get your act together, NBC, and look at how the Game Show Network handles poker. Shit, even Poker Superstars III has better commentary than this. You've got a good game. Now match it with the production.
Have the suckouts stopped? They're not as plentiful, but they're almost more painful, many times the difference between a cash or the bigger payoffs or first and second (lately, the trend is for me to have the villian dominanted, only for him/her to get the fucking other card on the river for two-pair; last night my A,Q versus her Q,8 on a Q-high flop cost me $10 when she got her 8 on the river).
So, no, they haven't stopped. So what's the difference?
I've added a little violence to my life.
Don't worry. The dog's fine, the wife gets hugs and kisses and the only violence the baby feels is when he's tossed in the air two feet above my chest, which, by the way, he loves. That and an occasional tickle.
But I'm blowing the heads of lots of zombies, aliens and the occasional innocent.
The X-Box has really helped me decompress and, in some cases, take out some frustration after a long and difficult SnG that ends in yet another suckout. The current choice is Doom 64, but I've also played Fable a second time (this time I was Evil, slaughtering innocents on the path along the way, I just pretended they were poker donkeys and it really helped) and will move onto Half-Life and Gun soon enough.
I've discovered I must do something else every night other than play poker. I like to play an SnG a night and spend an hour at a cash game.
In between, I shoot and kill as much as I can. I stop when I'm starting to jones for poker. I have a clear head when I get to the cash game, and since I started decompressing, I'm way up in my cash game.
A cash game, especially online, is all about patience, but it's hard to have patience when you're pissed and, I hate to say it, tilting.
Blow the head off a zombie. It will give you patience.
Side note: I'm really digging NBC's "National Heads-Up Poker Challenge." It's a great format, almost like the NCAA tournament, and is a wonderful change from the long line of poker tournaments. Plus Gabe Kaplan is probably the best poker commentator out there. He's even better than Lederer and far better than Vince "Frat Boy" Van Patton.
But the theme music is cheesy. Like Supertramp or Air Supply cheesy.
NBC treats poker like it was a cribbage tournament, acting SHOCKED at the Shiek's "antics" and asking Doyle Brunson about it and assigning a guy to call the action who knows NOTHING about poker (thank God Kaplan is there or else it'd get really bad). Here's how he calls the match: HE CALLS!!!! I'm sorry, but I could that.
Poker ain't a nice game. Don't try to make it so by giving it a funny little theme song and treating it like the Olympics.
Get your act together, NBC, and look at how the Game Show Network handles poker. Shit, even Poker Superstars III has better commentary than this. You've got a good game. Now match it with the production.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Thursday Thoughts
Poker is going so well right now, I don't think I have any right to bitch. But bitch I will. Last night will inspire most of the following thoughts.
I left $8 ahead, but it was one of those nights when I might have cleared $75 with better moves.
• I am a NL player, and my biggest strength is avoiding trouble. I am very good at dodging bullets (not just AA in this case, although even then I have a Hellmuth-like ability to "dodge bullets, baby"). Some can semi-bluff. Others can bullshit. Others can bully. I dodge bullets.
It's not sexy, but it works for me.
OK, so given that, I seem to lose the most money when I simply call and not raise or fold, even when, according to the odds, a call is justified.
Last night I called a guy down when I was holding AA because I refused to believe he had a flush, even when he was betting a flush and three diamonds were out there. A pot-sized call was justified, in my mind, because I held the nut diamond, so if a fourth came down (even with one card to go), I thought I would take him for all his money, so the implied odds were huge.
When a heart fell, and he bet $5 into the $23 pot, I had to call, given that there was a 25 percent chance my hand was still good, even though I knew it wasn't.
This is why I don't play limit poker. I tend to make far too many "odds" calls, and by the time I keep calling $1 bets, my stack shrinks like Costanza's penis once it hits a swimming pool.
• I also tend to lose money when I've made a lot of money. When I haven't won a hand, I play tight. Too tight. Tighter than a nun's... (OK, you've heard the joke).
When I'm winning, however, I make too many "what the hell" calls. I am very good at holding onto my chips in a tournament. I need to do the same in a cash game.
I lost more money on two other weak calls, just like the fish do, because I was up $25, so what the hell, right?
• My least favorite hand? KQ. Every time I don't call a raise with it, it flops two pair, as it did last night. Every time I play it, I lose money on it, as I did last night, when I lost $8 with a Q-high board, all rags, no flush and no straights. The guy flopped a small set.
• My favorite hand? AA. I know. Duh. But I rarely lose with it. Why? I don't slowplay it. I bet it aggressively. Too many players see those As and think their hand is golden. The only time it's golden is pre-flop. Even though I lost earlier with it, I won a $17 pot with it later that night.
• I still have a problem calling raises, even 3x raises, with anything but a very strong hand, like pocket pairs down to 10,10, A,K or maybe A,Q. I don't think this is a bad thing. But I'm starting to think I should loosen up a bit.
Of course, probably nothing depends more on your read of an opponent than calling his or her raise. If a tight player (me) raises, you better fold unless you have the goods or we're in a tournament and the blinds are worth stealing. If a loose player raises, well...maybe you can call.
It still bothers me, in a cash game, to invest a lot of money preflop unless I have KK or AA or, maybe, AK.
It's a weakness of mine. But maybe it's also a strength.
• Poker is going well for two reasons. One is I'm getting good hands after a couple of mostly card-dead months.
That's easy. Even donkeys get good hands and sometimes even win with them.
But the second reason is I'm reading opponents better than ever.
I'm actually improving! Wow!
Last night I held K,J, the ultimate donkey hand because of how many times it's overplayed. I never call a raise with it. Last night, after playing an opponent for 15 minutes, I held K,J, threw my .25 out there, and four others called.
Rag, Rag, J. No draws out there.
OK. I bet $1, about half the pot and usually what I always bet on the flop regardless of what I have in .25 NL.
Everyone folds except for THE opponent, who was talking a lot and lost $5 to me earlier chasing a heart draw even when he didn't have the odds to play it because I priced him out of it (or so I thought). The guy was going back and forth with another donkey, about how bad this donkey was, about how, even if he did lose a pot to him earlier, the donkey sucks.
The turn comes a blank, and I fire $2 into the pot. He raises me back $2.
Ah. Now. Does a guy who is chatting about how a donkey plays crap all the time in fact play crap himself? I make sure he's not on a blind. Nope. He would have raised me with J,A, I believe, because he's raised a fair amount, every time with high cards.
I take the raise as a sign that he has a pair and would prefer to take the pot down now.
I hold K,J, and I bet my whole stack, $20.
He calls.
He holds Q,J.
I win.
I would not make reads like this three months ago. In fact, I would have probably been the guy berating me (wouldn't that be weird) a coupe of months ago for pushing all his stack in with K,J.
Lately I've made many calls or, even more importantly, raises like this one. I"m not Phil Ivey. But I am a winning poker player because of them.
I left $8 ahead, but it was one of those nights when I might have cleared $75 with better moves.
• I am a NL player, and my biggest strength is avoiding trouble. I am very good at dodging bullets (not just AA in this case, although even then I have a Hellmuth-like ability to "dodge bullets, baby"). Some can semi-bluff. Others can bullshit. Others can bully. I dodge bullets.
It's not sexy, but it works for me.
OK, so given that, I seem to lose the most money when I simply call and not raise or fold, even when, according to the odds, a call is justified.
Last night I called a guy down when I was holding AA because I refused to believe he had a flush, even when he was betting a flush and three diamonds were out there. A pot-sized call was justified, in my mind, because I held the nut diamond, so if a fourth came down (even with one card to go), I thought I would take him for all his money, so the implied odds were huge.
When a heart fell, and he bet $5 into the $23 pot, I had to call, given that there was a 25 percent chance my hand was still good, even though I knew it wasn't.
This is why I don't play limit poker. I tend to make far too many "odds" calls, and by the time I keep calling $1 bets, my stack shrinks like Costanza's penis once it hits a swimming pool.
• I also tend to lose money when I've made a lot of money. When I haven't won a hand, I play tight. Too tight. Tighter than a nun's... (OK, you've heard the joke).
When I'm winning, however, I make too many "what the hell" calls. I am very good at holding onto my chips in a tournament. I need to do the same in a cash game.
I lost more money on two other weak calls, just like the fish do, because I was up $25, so what the hell, right?
• My least favorite hand? KQ. Every time I don't call a raise with it, it flops two pair, as it did last night. Every time I play it, I lose money on it, as I did last night, when I lost $8 with a Q-high board, all rags, no flush and no straights. The guy flopped a small set.
• My favorite hand? AA. I know. Duh. But I rarely lose with it. Why? I don't slowplay it. I bet it aggressively. Too many players see those As and think their hand is golden. The only time it's golden is pre-flop. Even though I lost earlier with it, I won a $17 pot with it later that night.
• I still have a problem calling raises, even 3x raises, with anything but a very strong hand, like pocket pairs down to 10,10, A,K or maybe A,Q. I don't think this is a bad thing. But I'm starting to think I should loosen up a bit.
Of course, probably nothing depends more on your read of an opponent than calling his or her raise. If a tight player (me) raises, you better fold unless you have the goods or we're in a tournament and the blinds are worth stealing. If a loose player raises, well...maybe you can call.
It still bothers me, in a cash game, to invest a lot of money preflop unless I have KK or AA or, maybe, AK.
It's a weakness of mine. But maybe it's also a strength.
• Poker is going well for two reasons. One is I'm getting good hands after a couple of mostly card-dead months.
That's easy. Even donkeys get good hands and sometimes even win with them.
But the second reason is I'm reading opponents better than ever.
I'm actually improving! Wow!
Last night I held K,J, the ultimate donkey hand because of how many times it's overplayed. I never call a raise with it. Last night, after playing an opponent for 15 minutes, I held K,J, threw my .25 out there, and four others called.
Rag, Rag, J. No draws out there.
OK. I bet $1, about half the pot and usually what I always bet on the flop regardless of what I have in .25 NL.
Everyone folds except for THE opponent, who was talking a lot and lost $5 to me earlier chasing a heart draw even when he didn't have the odds to play it because I priced him out of it (or so I thought). The guy was going back and forth with another donkey, about how bad this donkey was, about how, even if he did lose a pot to him earlier, the donkey sucks.
The turn comes a blank, and I fire $2 into the pot. He raises me back $2.
Ah. Now. Does a guy who is chatting about how a donkey plays crap all the time in fact play crap himself? I make sure he's not on a blind. Nope. He would have raised me with J,A, I believe, because he's raised a fair amount, every time with high cards.
I take the raise as a sign that he has a pair and would prefer to take the pot down now.
I hold K,J, and I bet my whole stack, $20.
He calls.
He holds Q,J.
I win.
I would not make reads like this three months ago. In fact, I would have probably been the guy berating me (wouldn't that be weird) a coupe of months ago for pushing all his stack in with K,J.
Lately I've made many calls or, even more importantly, raises like this one. I"m not Phil Ivey. But I am a winning poker player because of them.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
So.Very.Sore
Last week:
Played poker. Finished up $100 for the week, playing mostly .25 NL and a few low-stakes SnGs.
Played Fable, a game on the X-Box, and a fun one at that. This is my second time. I'm evil this time. An evil badass. Grrr!
Feel good!
Sunday:
Ran a "mini" marathon, 15 miles, in 2:12, or about 9 minutes a mile.
Can barely walk.
Remind me, again, which activity is healthier?
Played poker. Finished up $100 for the week, playing mostly .25 NL and a few low-stakes SnGs.
Played Fable, a game on the X-Box, and a fun one at that. This is my second time. I'm evil this time. An evil badass. Grrr!
Feel good!
Sunday:
Ran a "mini" marathon, 15 miles, in 2:12, or about 9 minutes a mile.
Can barely walk.
Remind me, again, which activity is healthier?
Thursday, May 04, 2006
One big pot, one tiny turnaround
Playing poker while tired, physically or mentally, is dangerous.
But sometimes I need poker to relax.
It sounds funny, poker can be and should be intense, but at times it's also a nice way to end the day. If that costs me a couple bucks because I haven't analyzed a hand enough to see through that guy's bluff, so be it.
So I sat down to a .25 NL cash game last night, after a softball game when it rained THE ENTIRE TIME and a 15-mile, mini-marathon is staring at me, in the face, at a time when I've rarely felt so worn-down, tired and just plain dead.
Maybe I overtrained. It's possible. Maybe I'm just sore from softball, the first two games of the new season. That's possible as well. Maybe I'm just worn down mentally, from considering giving one of our dogs away and dealing with a situation I don't want to get into right now (it involves ebay and an undelivered computer) and selling our home and trying to do all this while raising an active 10-month-old who thinks he MUST explore every inch of every open door, cabinet or toliet.
Then again, I may have just been pissed and down after bubbling out of a $10 SnG and a completely frustrating last half when my cards were deader than the cast of "Night of the Living Dead." My play was lamer than that analogy. The other two guys were raising, raising, raising, pounding my stack into nothing, and yet, when challenged, they would back off. Whenever I had any scrap of a hand, J,10, Q,9, K,8, even 8,7, I would pound back, but more often than not, they would raise me when I had 4,9 or 8,3 in my blind. That means, of course, that even if they are bullshitting, they probably have you beat. It's the most frustrating feeling in poker, at least it is for me, a tight-aggressive player who prefers to make a move with a good hand rather than bluff and push with bad ones.
I finally get another scrap of a hand, A,5, after three blind levels, and I have to push, and I do, and the guy flips over A,K.
Sigh. IGHN.
Anyway, so after an hour of X-box to decompress, I went back to poker, to my cash game, still exhausted but not on tilt.
I was whining about my cash game, at least in my head. These last two months, I have scraped together enough winning sessions to make a profit for the month (I was ahead $50 in April, who-hoo), but I've also had lots of losing sessions.
Here's what I was whining about in my head:
"I'm a tight player, especially in cash games. I never seem to lose a lot. The problem is, I never seem to win a lot, either. So many other players, bad ones, walk away with these $75 takes (200 BB). I'm happy to scratch out $5 profit for the night. Lately I'm either raised out of a decent hand or not called when I raise with a good hand. My hands also never seem to hit the flop. Maybe I'm not playing enough hands. Wait, I play sooted connectors, my blinds, any pocket pair, As down to A-7, Ks down to K-10 and a few other fliers. So is that too tight? I don't think so.
But there are so many players playing crap all the time, and with so many players in every hand, they don't mind the gamble. Is Poker really a glorified lottery? Is it really a skill game? How can anyone call a 7-hand game a skill game?"
My game plan is always to not lose a whole lot and wait for the big score.
I was down another $2 when I got Q,J hearts. I call. Three other players call. The last guy raises another .25. In an effort to loosen my game up, as I have lately, I call.
A,7,3.
All hearts.
One card can be me at this point, and only if it's paired with another hand.
One guy bets $5.
I call, taking a small risk, but hoping that the third guy calls.
He raises all in for his $25, a full buy-in.
Sweet. If he has the K and another heart, I suppose he deserves a payoff.
I call.
The third guy calls.
The pot is $66, or more than 300 BB.
10 diamonds, 8 spades.
One guy turns over 10,9 of hearts.
Last guy turns over a set of 4s.
Sweet.
I love my style. I love my game.
I love poker.
And I'm awake.
Today I'm tired, but that pot still brings a smile to my face. Maybe it will give me a little more energy Sunday.
But sometimes I need poker to relax.
It sounds funny, poker can be and should be intense, but at times it's also a nice way to end the day. If that costs me a couple bucks because I haven't analyzed a hand enough to see through that guy's bluff, so be it.
So I sat down to a .25 NL cash game last night, after a softball game when it rained THE ENTIRE TIME and a 15-mile, mini-marathon is staring at me, in the face, at a time when I've rarely felt so worn-down, tired and just plain dead.
Maybe I overtrained. It's possible. Maybe I'm just sore from softball, the first two games of the new season. That's possible as well. Maybe I'm just worn down mentally, from considering giving one of our dogs away and dealing with a situation I don't want to get into right now (it involves ebay and an undelivered computer) and selling our home and trying to do all this while raising an active 10-month-old who thinks he MUST explore every inch of every open door, cabinet or toliet.
Then again, I may have just been pissed and down after bubbling out of a $10 SnG and a completely frustrating last half when my cards were deader than the cast of "Night of the Living Dead." My play was lamer than that analogy. The other two guys were raising, raising, raising, pounding my stack into nothing, and yet, when challenged, they would back off. Whenever I had any scrap of a hand, J,10, Q,9, K,8, even 8,7, I would pound back, but more often than not, they would raise me when I had 4,9 or 8,3 in my blind. That means, of course, that even if they are bullshitting, they probably have you beat. It's the most frustrating feeling in poker, at least it is for me, a tight-aggressive player who prefers to make a move with a good hand rather than bluff and push with bad ones.
I finally get another scrap of a hand, A,5, after three blind levels, and I have to push, and I do, and the guy flips over A,K.
Sigh. IGHN.
Anyway, so after an hour of X-box to decompress, I went back to poker, to my cash game, still exhausted but not on tilt.
I was whining about my cash game, at least in my head. These last two months, I have scraped together enough winning sessions to make a profit for the month (I was ahead $50 in April, who-hoo), but I've also had lots of losing sessions.
Here's what I was whining about in my head:
"I'm a tight player, especially in cash games. I never seem to lose a lot. The problem is, I never seem to win a lot, either. So many other players, bad ones, walk away with these $75 takes (200 BB). I'm happy to scratch out $5 profit for the night. Lately I'm either raised out of a decent hand or not called when I raise with a good hand. My hands also never seem to hit the flop. Maybe I'm not playing enough hands. Wait, I play sooted connectors, my blinds, any pocket pair, As down to A-7, Ks down to K-10 and a few other fliers. So is that too tight? I don't think so.
But there are so many players playing crap all the time, and with so many players in every hand, they don't mind the gamble. Is Poker really a glorified lottery? Is it really a skill game? How can anyone call a 7-hand game a skill game?"
My game plan is always to not lose a whole lot and wait for the big score.
I was down another $2 when I got Q,J hearts. I call. Three other players call. The last guy raises another .25. In an effort to loosen my game up, as I have lately, I call.
A,7,3.
All hearts.
One card can be me at this point, and only if it's paired with another hand.
One guy bets $5.
I call, taking a small risk, but hoping that the third guy calls.
He raises all in for his $25, a full buy-in.
Sweet. If he has the K and another heart, I suppose he deserves a payoff.
I call.
The third guy calls.
The pot is $66, or more than 300 BB.
10 diamonds, 8 spades.
One guy turns over 10,9 of hearts.
Last guy turns over a set of 4s.
Sweet.
I love my style. I love my game.
I love poker.
And I'm awake.
Today I'm tired, but that pot still brings a smile to my face. Maybe it will give me a little more energy Sunday.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
A fun beat
There are days when you know it's going to be a tough day. Maybe you get QQ, your first hand after six orbits, and it runs into KK.
Saturday I knew was going to be tough, and it had nothing to do with poker. I was up at 3 a.m. and left my house at 3:45 a.m. to climb my first mountain of the year.
It was a beautiful night. The stars shone, and the forecast of less than 20 percent looked good.
And then I reached Copper Mountain, a few miles before my turnoff near Breckenridge, and it started to snow.
Hard.
It was the same feeling I would get after getting that QQ. You gotta be kidding me. My first climb (my first hand) in a long time (in xxx orbits) and I run into snow (KK)?
The weather, however, cleared a little as I headed up the road that would lead to the trailhead. My partner greeted me and said the weather looked good, huh? I glanced up. Blue sky.
Sweet.
And then I saw the clouds racing across the sky like big, white, poofy aeroplanes.
Uh oh.
That means wind. Wind means ugh. Especially in winter, when a strong wind can turn a cold day into a frostbite-inducing terror.
I wanted to climb Peak 10 and Crystal Peak near Breckenridge. Many don’t chose to stop at Peak 10.
I didn’t really choose to stop there, either, but I did.
Saturday I attempted Crystal, a 13,852-foot peak, to try to knock off one of my Centennials, one of the top 100 peaks in Colorado. Now that I’ve finished all the 14ers, I’m going for those next, in the hopes of finishing them in the next 15 years.
I enjoy climbing in the winter. The mountains are even more beautiful, you don’t have to worry about thunderstorms or roasting in the heat, and the snow can be really fun, giving you chances to slide down some slopes and plunge step down others.
But, as Saturday showed, winter can also turn Colorado’s peaks into challenges worthy of any mountaineer.
Crystal, when hiked through the Spruce Creek Trailhead, isn’t much more than a difficult day hike in the summer, something you don’t want to take too lightly but well within the reach of anyone in good shape and some understanding of a peak’s potential dangers.
Saturday we faced steady, punishing winds of more than 30 mph, slapping the wind chill down to sub-zero temperatures, clouding our visibility and sending the snow pellets up to sting our faces. Our packs were loaded down with ice axes, snowshoes and extra clothing. And walking in snow is always harder than walking on bare ground, no matter how much more fun it is.
Hiking in the area would be fun regardless of the season, even if you don’t want to climb Peak 10 or Crystal. Once you take the Crystal Creek Road after traveling 300 yards on the Spruce Creek Road and make it just above treeline, you’ll run into Francie’s Cabin.
The area is beautiful, with outstanding views of Father Dyer, Mount Helen and a chance to visit Lower Crystal Lake, and the cabin gives you a place to stay for the night. For information on the cabin or to make a reservation, visit www.summithuts.org.
If you want to continue, follow the Wheeler Trail, which is marked with large carins (we could see them even with all the snow). Continue up and soon you’ll see Peak 10’s summit.
The final ridge that leads to Peak 10 is an exciting walk but shouldn’t give anyone the willies. The summit is a quaint little spot, like a den with just enough room for a chair and a typewriter. I’m told skiiers like to get high there, but I was already feeling a little dizzy and chose my gatorade and my (ironically named) summer sausage and cheese instead. The views are inspiring enough.
If you want to continue to Crystal, head down to the saddle between the two peaks and climb the steep ridge to the summit. In the summer, it won’t be anything but a climb up talus, but in the winter, bring your ice axe and some confidence on steep snow.
Mistakes compound each other in the mountains. I didn’t get enough rest the week before, thanks to my infant son, Jayden, so leaving the house at 3:45 a.m. was especially painful. It was so cold my water bladder froze, which meant I didn’t hydrate enough, and I didn’t want to eat in the cold, but I didn’t eat enough breakfast to get away with that. And I didn’t bring goggles or enough face protection, so the snow stung my face and made it impossible to see.
I really thought training for my half marathon, something I’ll do next week, along with my previous experience, would make me strong enough to overcome any obstacles.
But what I needed to remember is that the mountains, sometimes, will win even when you’re at your best. On days like Saturday, they don’t need any help.
I didn't get to summit my main goal, but I did get to climb a peak.
It was a fun day and a tough beat. Sometimes the two do actually go hand in hand.
Saturday I knew was going to be tough, and it had nothing to do with poker. I was up at 3 a.m. and left my house at 3:45 a.m. to climb my first mountain of the year.
It was a beautiful night. The stars shone, and the forecast of less than 20 percent looked good.
And then I reached Copper Mountain, a few miles before my turnoff near Breckenridge, and it started to snow.
Hard.
It was the same feeling I would get after getting that QQ. You gotta be kidding me. My first climb (my first hand) in a long time (in xxx orbits) and I run into snow (KK)?
The weather, however, cleared a little as I headed up the road that would lead to the trailhead. My partner greeted me and said the weather looked good, huh? I glanced up. Blue sky.
Sweet.
And then I saw the clouds racing across the sky like big, white, poofy aeroplanes.
Uh oh.
That means wind. Wind means ugh. Especially in winter, when a strong wind can turn a cold day into a frostbite-inducing terror.
I wanted to climb Peak 10 and Crystal Peak near Breckenridge. Many don’t chose to stop at Peak 10.
I didn’t really choose to stop there, either, but I did.
Saturday I attempted Crystal, a 13,852-foot peak, to try to knock off one of my Centennials, one of the top 100 peaks in Colorado. Now that I’ve finished all the 14ers, I’m going for those next, in the hopes of finishing them in the next 15 years.
I enjoy climbing in the winter. The mountains are even more beautiful, you don’t have to worry about thunderstorms or roasting in the heat, and the snow can be really fun, giving you chances to slide down some slopes and plunge step down others.
But, as Saturday showed, winter can also turn Colorado’s peaks into challenges worthy of any mountaineer.
Crystal, when hiked through the Spruce Creek Trailhead, isn’t much more than a difficult day hike in the summer, something you don’t want to take too lightly but well within the reach of anyone in good shape and some understanding of a peak’s potential dangers.
Saturday we faced steady, punishing winds of more than 30 mph, slapping the wind chill down to sub-zero temperatures, clouding our visibility and sending the snow pellets up to sting our faces. Our packs were loaded down with ice axes, snowshoes and extra clothing. And walking in snow is always harder than walking on bare ground, no matter how much more fun it is.
Hiking in the area would be fun regardless of the season, even if you don’t want to climb Peak 10 or Crystal. Once you take the Crystal Creek Road after traveling 300 yards on the Spruce Creek Road and make it just above treeline, you’ll run into Francie’s Cabin.
The area is beautiful, with outstanding views of Father Dyer, Mount Helen and a chance to visit Lower Crystal Lake, and the cabin gives you a place to stay for the night. For information on the cabin or to make a reservation, visit www.summithuts.org.
If you want to continue, follow the Wheeler Trail, which is marked with large carins (we could see them even with all the snow). Continue up and soon you’ll see Peak 10’s summit.
The final ridge that leads to Peak 10 is an exciting walk but shouldn’t give anyone the willies. The summit is a quaint little spot, like a den with just enough room for a chair and a typewriter. I’m told skiiers like to get high there, but I was already feeling a little dizzy and chose my gatorade and my (ironically named) summer sausage and cheese instead. The views are inspiring enough.
If you want to continue to Crystal, head down to the saddle between the two peaks and climb the steep ridge to the summit. In the summer, it won’t be anything but a climb up talus, but in the winter, bring your ice axe and some confidence on steep snow.
Mistakes compound each other in the mountains. I didn’t get enough rest the week before, thanks to my infant son, Jayden, so leaving the house at 3:45 a.m. was especially painful. It was so cold my water bladder froze, which meant I didn’t hydrate enough, and I didn’t want to eat in the cold, but I didn’t eat enough breakfast to get away with that. And I didn’t bring goggles or enough face protection, so the snow stung my face and made it impossible to see.
I really thought training for my half marathon, something I’ll do next week, along with my previous experience, would make me strong enough to overcome any obstacles.
But what I needed to remember is that the mountains, sometimes, will win even when you’re at your best. On days like Saturday, they don’t need any help.
I didn't get to summit my main goal, but I did get to climb a peak.
It was a fun day and a tough beat. Sometimes the two do actually go hand in hand.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Can you smell what the rock is folding?
AA.
I folded it last night after the turn, when all I had was the pair, and the flop was 3,Q,J, and two guys called my first $3 bet.
The guy bet $5, or about a fifth of the buy-in and a quarter of his stack, after a K hit.
Not only do I not like that bet, I don't like the fact that I don't know what the other guy is gonna do.
This was not a tournament. It was a cash game.
So I folded.
I am much more aggressive in a tournament. That's not saying much, as I am still picky about my starting hands in a tournament.
But I sure am a rock in cash games.
I'm a successful cash game player, but lately, in these last couple of months, I'm probably break even. I seem to be treading water quite a bit. I've had far more losing sessions than I care to admit these last couple of months, but usually they amount to losing a couple bucks and no more.
It bothers me, but I don't know if I'll be able to ever really push, bluff and raise the way I do in a tournament. The losses hurt too much in a cash game. I'm never confident I'll be able to win it back, as I can in a cash game. And I rarely take chances because I don't have to: I haven't sucked out in a cash game in a long, long time, and that tells me I refuse to get my money in unless I know I have the best of it.
It's still not a bad way to play, at .25 NL, when there are so many bad players that patience will win you pots.
But it's also a tough way to play, as the levels are so erratic, I have a hard time knowing what the guy has. TPTK, especially, is a tough hand for me to play lately. I've pushed with it and lost, and I've also folded it many times, only to find out the guy thought his TPNK was golden or even his second pair was good.
And I usually get my best hands in the first 15 minutes, when I haven't really pegged the donkeys. By the time I do, others have already dragged them off to feed.
I know everyone, including me, loves to talk about how bad the players on the Internet are, but quite frankly, many aren't as bad as you think. Yes, there are many bad players, but there are also many decent ones who, yes, do have a hand when they push you.
Poker is about calculated risks. Maybe I need to take more risks and look for less sure things. It's called gambling for a reason.
Or I can just wait for AA again.
I folded it last night after the turn, when all I had was the pair, and the flop was 3,Q,J, and two guys called my first $3 bet.
The guy bet $5, or about a fifth of the buy-in and a quarter of his stack, after a K hit.
Not only do I not like that bet, I don't like the fact that I don't know what the other guy is gonna do.
This was not a tournament. It was a cash game.
So I folded.
I am much more aggressive in a tournament. That's not saying much, as I am still picky about my starting hands in a tournament.
But I sure am a rock in cash games.
I'm a successful cash game player, but lately, in these last couple of months, I'm probably break even. I seem to be treading water quite a bit. I've had far more losing sessions than I care to admit these last couple of months, but usually they amount to losing a couple bucks and no more.
It bothers me, but I don't know if I'll be able to ever really push, bluff and raise the way I do in a tournament. The losses hurt too much in a cash game. I'm never confident I'll be able to win it back, as I can in a cash game. And I rarely take chances because I don't have to: I haven't sucked out in a cash game in a long, long time, and that tells me I refuse to get my money in unless I know I have the best of it.
It's still not a bad way to play, at .25 NL, when there are so many bad players that patience will win you pots.
But it's also a tough way to play, as the levels are so erratic, I have a hard time knowing what the guy has. TPTK, especially, is a tough hand for me to play lately. I've pushed with it and lost, and I've also folded it many times, only to find out the guy thought his TPNK was golden or even his second pair was good.
And I usually get my best hands in the first 15 minutes, when I haven't really pegged the donkeys. By the time I do, others have already dragged them off to feed.
I know everyone, including me, loves to talk about how bad the players on the Internet are, but quite frankly, many aren't as bad as you think. Yes, there are many bad players, but there are also many decent ones who, yes, do have a hand when they push you.
Poker is about calculated risks. Maybe I need to take more risks and look for less sure things. It's called gambling for a reason.
Or I can just wait for AA again.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Change of season
Poker is a pastime, not a job.
Poker is a game, not an exercise.
Poker is a hobby, not work.
Poker is supposed to be fun.
The game, however, was not fun during March, my worst month, a month when I actually lost money, when suckouts were a plenty (and none for me) and card-dead sessions blossomed like tulips in a cemetary.
That's poker. That's the game. That's also what makes those sessions when you're on a rush so much more fun, you know, like Easter, a fun holiday that only happens a few times a year.
But March got to me a little bit too much. Restless nights. Occasional upset stomachs. Many, many pillows slammed on the floor.
I think I know why.
Two reasons.
The first, unfortunately, is that I'm uber competitive. I like to win. Don't worry: I'm not the guy who will scream at my kid's wiffle ball game when he gets old enough to play, or beat up his friends when we play tag (do kids play that anymore? They will at my house).
But I do like to win a little too much. I keep it under control for the most part because I'm aware of my need to win. However, it has caused a couple embarassing moments out on the softball diamond, for instance.
The second was a goal. I wanted, no, needed, to buy a new computer, and I planned to pay for it with poker money.
So even $50 lost for the week put me $50 away from my goal. I actually started saying scary things to the screen, like, "come on, I really need this pot." Like, if I don't win this $35 pot, the mob will break my 10-month-old's legs.
I am not a gambler. I am a poker player. Yes, there is a difference. But chasing that computer, I became a gambler, someone who "needed" to win all the time, someone who played just another hour, honey, and then I'll go to bed.
Well, it's April now, and my poker game is in a rebirth, much like our new season. After my incredible, fortunate takedown at the casino in Blackhawk, CO, and a nice tax refund (thank you, tax credit, I knew kids were good for something besides lots of love, lol), I had enough to pay for a new computer,
I purchased it on E-bay, and while I'm still waiting for it, a bit uneasily, I might add, the guy assured me he sent it Friday.
And I'm enjoying the game again.
If I lose, and I have, it's not a big deal. If I win, and I have, I get to keep playing. My bankroll is paltry after my huge cashouts, but that's OK, too.
I am up this month, by quite a bit, actually, thanks to some live home tournaments filled with fish. My ring game isn't kick ass, not like it was in February, but I'm not losing much on it, either. The small-stakes SnGs, as they always do, are going fine.
Most of all, I'm enjoying myself.
Poker is not a game. It is fun. Again.
Poker is a game, not an exercise.
Poker is a hobby, not work.
Poker is supposed to be fun.
The game, however, was not fun during March, my worst month, a month when I actually lost money, when suckouts were a plenty (and none for me) and card-dead sessions blossomed like tulips in a cemetary.
That's poker. That's the game. That's also what makes those sessions when you're on a rush so much more fun, you know, like Easter, a fun holiday that only happens a few times a year.
But March got to me a little bit too much. Restless nights. Occasional upset stomachs. Many, many pillows slammed on the floor.
I think I know why.
Two reasons.
The first, unfortunately, is that I'm uber competitive. I like to win. Don't worry: I'm not the guy who will scream at my kid's wiffle ball game when he gets old enough to play, or beat up his friends when we play tag (do kids play that anymore? They will at my house).
But I do like to win a little too much. I keep it under control for the most part because I'm aware of my need to win. However, it has caused a couple embarassing moments out on the softball diamond, for instance.
The second was a goal. I wanted, no, needed, to buy a new computer, and I planned to pay for it with poker money.
So even $50 lost for the week put me $50 away from my goal. I actually started saying scary things to the screen, like, "come on, I really need this pot." Like, if I don't win this $35 pot, the mob will break my 10-month-old's legs.
I am not a gambler. I am a poker player. Yes, there is a difference. But chasing that computer, I became a gambler, someone who "needed" to win all the time, someone who played just another hour, honey, and then I'll go to bed.
Well, it's April now, and my poker game is in a rebirth, much like our new season. After my incredible, fortunate takedown at the casino in Blackhawk, CO, and a nice tax refund (thank you, tax credit, I knew kids were good for something besides lots of love, lol), I had enough to pay for a new computer,
I purchased it on E-bay, and while I'm still waiting for it, a bit uneasily, I might add, the guy assured me he sent it Friday.
And I'm enjoying the game again.
If I lose, and I have, it's not a big deal. If I win, and I have, I get to keep playing. My bankroll is paltry after my huge cashouts, but that's OK, too.
I am up this month, by quite a bit, actually, thanks to some live home tournaments filled with fish. My ring game isn't kick ass, not like it was in February, but I'm not losing much on it, either. The small-stakes SnGs, as they always do, are going fine.
Most of all, I'm enjoying myself.
Poker is not a game. It is fun. Again.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
"High-Stakes Poker" high-class late-night TV
So Baby England, aka Mr. Spaz, decided that at 10:30 p.m., just as I was coming home from work, that he had had enough sleep for the night.
Ah. Nothing like a four-hour nap to make you feel refreshed. I think I'm gonna crawl around for a while.
I guess that was his thinking. So, as I finally decided to dig into a new X-Box game after a long day of work and watching Baby England before that, Mrs. England (Mrs. Pokerpeaker?) brings down an active boy and says, "Can you watch him?"
OK.
Inevitably, of course, that means no more X-Box, although he did sit with me so I could finish the first level. Thanks man. I brushed my teeth and went upstairs and flipped on the tube as he squirmed around Midnight.
Sweet. High Stakes Poker is on, Monday's last episode, I guess.
Boy, did that ease the pain.
This might be my favorite poker show, save for watching the World Series poker on ESPN. This is how these guys make their living, at these high stakes matches, so I felt like I really got an idea of their true lifestyles. Getting to watch Barry Greenstein and Sam Farah battle it out for $350,000 was awesome, even if it did make my $20 taken that day seem a little, well, puny.
Some observations:
• Watching Daniel Negreanu come back to almost even after losting nearly a $1 million is a great example of how Tilt shouldn't exist in your vocabulary. It's no excuse to blow half your bankroll because "you were on Tilt." Each hand is a new one, each game is a new one, and all you have to do is play every hand with exactly the same calm emotion as the one before it. There's a great lesson there. I hope I can follow it in the future.
• Phil Helmuth is a better player than I thought. I know the guy has won nine world championships, but his game seemed a little too predictable for me, especially in this age of poker, when he just bitched about guys playing K,J instead of adjusting his play to fit the new, wilder style.
Helmuth mixes it up as well as anyone and bluffs well. He got Jennifer Harman to call a big bet on the river with a pair of 9s. I know it was difficult for her to put him on small cards given his reputation, but he got the pot because he mixed it up. Lesson learned: Going against your reputation or table image is how you'll make the most money, as long as you do it well.
• I wonder how much these guys really make every year. $25,000 seems like nothing to them.
• I felt better about my own play after watching them. They make mistakes, too, and play hands like K,10 "just to see the flop." They get outkicked, flushed out and straighted just like the best of us. I beat myself up too much for making one bad call, and I shouldn't. Poker is not a perfect game.
The key is they don't do it very often. For every bad decision they make they probably make 10 good ones (even if it doesn't always work out for them). My ratio isn't that high, but it's probably higher than many Internet players (I'm a winning player, so I think this is true). Even so, try to work on upping that ratio but not destroying yourself when you do play a hand badly.
• I do need to loosen up more at the tables, just a little more. Yes, chances are at a large table that someone has a good starting hand, but that doesn't mean they've got the nuts once the flop hits. Monsters were rare in that game.
Bring the show back for a new season, GSN. It's one of the best things on TV right now. Besides, I need something to watch late at night if Jayden decides to punch in another late-night session.
Ah. Nothing like a four-hour nap to make you feel refreshed. I think I'm gonna crawl around for a while.
I guess that was his thinking. So, as I finally decided to dig into a new X-Box game after a long day of work and watching Baby England before that, Mrs. England (Mrs. Pokerpeaker?) brings down an active boy and says, "Can you watch him?"
OK.
Inevitably, of course, that means no more X-Box, although he did sit with me so I could finish the first level. Thanks man. I brushed my teeth and went upstairs and flipped on the tube as he squirmed around Midnight.
Sweet. High Stakes Poker is on, Monday's last episode, I guess.
Boy, did that ease the pain.
This might be my favorite poker show, save for watching the World Series poker on ESPN. This is how these guys make their living, at these high stakes matches, so I felt like I really got an idea of their true lifestyles. Getting to watch Barry Greenstein and Sam Farah battle it out for $350,000 was awesome, even if it did make my $20 taken that day seem a little, well, puny.
Some observations:
• Watching Daniel Negreanu come back to almost even after losting nearly a $1 million is a great example of how Tilt shouldn't exist in your vocabulary. It's no excuse to blow half your bankroll because "you were on Tilt." Each hand is a new one, each game is a new one, and all you have to do is play every hand with exactly the same calm emotion as the one before it. There's a great lesson there. I hope I can follow it in the future.
• Phil Helmuth is a better player than I thought. I know the guy has won nine world championships, but his game seemed a little too predictable for me, especially in this age of poker, when he just bitched about guys playing K,J instead of adjusting his play to fit the new, wilder style.
Helmuth mixes it up as well as anyone and bluffs well. He got Jennifer Harman to call a big bet on the river with a pair of 9s. I know it was difficult for her to put him on small cards given his reputation, but he got the pot because he mixed it up. Lesson learned: Going against your reputation or table image is how you'll make the most money, as long as you do it well.
• I wonder how much these guys really make every year. $25,000 seems like nothing to them.
• I felt better about my own play after watching them. They make mistakes, too, and play hands like K,10 "just to see the flop." They get outkicked, flushed out and straighted just like the best of us. I beat myself up too much for making one bad call, and I shouldn't. Poker is not a perfect game.
The key is they don't do it very often. For every bad decision they make they probably make 10 good ones (even if it doesn't always work out for them). My ratio isn't that high, but it's probably higher than many Internet players (I'm a winning player, so I think this is true). Even so, try to work on upping that ratio but not destroying yourself when you do play a hand badly.
• I do need to loosen up more at the tables, just a little more. Yes, chances are at a large table that someone has a good starting hand, but that doesn't mean they've got the nuts once the flop hits. Monsters were rare in that game.
Bring the show back for a new season, GSN. It's one of the best things on TV right now. Besides, I need something to watch late at night if Jayden decides to punch in another late-night session.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Playing with new players is confusing, frustrating but ultimately rewarding
So I played a private, home tournament Saturday night.
I didn't really know what to expect. The guy hosts card games every once in a while and wanted to host a hold 'em tournament.
The buy-in was $20, which was a teensy bit stiff for a guy with a baby and a reporter's and teacher's household income, but I thought I might be able to win it back, and I always enjoy playing with new people. Plus I can't resist live poker,and I haven't gotten to play it as much as I would like.
The first hand, I look at A,10. Eight of the nine players call, so I nervously call, too.
The flop comes A,10,3 rainbow.
I bet $300 into a $300 pot. Everyone looks at me and complains about the size of the bet, letting me know that the players may not be as good as I feared.
It's a stiff bet, but I want to pick up the pot and drive players out. And we only start with $200, with an aggressive, Internet-like blind structure (every orbit they double, I guess they don't want to be there all night), so I need to take advantage of the hands I have.
Five callers.
Uh oh.
A 5 comes on the turn, and two people call my $500 bet. It's another stiff bet, in the hopes of picking up the pot right there.
On the river comes a 2, and I wonder if they were chasing. I check, not ready to put all my money, and $20, into the pot just yet.
One flips over 5,5, and the other flips over the 4,6 for an impressive straight.
Wow. Ouch.
One called my huge bets with nothing, and the other had only a pair of 5s.
I'm here to have fun, so I don't bitch. Nice draw, I say (remember my new edict?).
What's a draw, they ask.
Okaaaaaay.
This is what it's like to play with new, beginning players. Donkeys, they were, but I don't want to be mean. Half of the table barely even knew how to play.
That, as I've shown up above, can be a great thing, but it can also be the most frustrating draw in poker, as you all know by playing with so many donkeys online.
You can't bet them off a hand. They won't raise themselves but they call all your raises, preflop, postflop and pre-post flop.
If they have a draw, they're chasing it, even if they have less than a 5 percent chance of making it. Then they say things like, "I knew that was coming." And so you never know where you are in a hand.
Of course, they will also call your A-high flushes with, well, nothing, just pretty face cards.
It works both ways.
Twice I had A-high, top two pair and lost both times to sets and flushes that shouldn't have been called. And twice I got lucky, once when my pair of 5s held up (my BB put me all in) and another time when a J appeared on the turn to help me through another all-in with the other guy holding A,Q.
I took second, gathered up my $60 and went home.
I promptly put it on a poker Web site.
After all, playing with bad players is frustrating, but, ultimately, it's rewarding as well.
I didn't really know what to expect. The guy hosts card games every once in a while and wanted to host a hold 'em tournament.
The buy-in was $20, which was a teensy bit stiff for a guy with a baby and a reporter's and teacher's household income, but I thought I might be able to win it back, and I always enjoy playing with new people. Plus I can't resist live poker,and I haven't gotten to play it as much as I would like.
The first hand, I look at A,10. Eight of the nine players call, so I nervously call, too.
The flop comes A,10,3 rainbow.
I bet $300 into a $300 pot. Everyone looks at me and complains about the size of the bet, letting me know that the players may not be as good as I feared.
It's a stiff bet, but I want to pick up the pot and drive players out. And we only start with $200, with an aggressive, Internet-like blind structure (every orbit they double, I guess they don't want to be there all night), so I need to take advantage of the hands I have.
Five callers.
Uh oh.
A 5 comes on the turn, and two people call my $500 bet. It's another stiff bet, in the hopes of picking up the pot right there.
On the river comes a 2, and I wonder if they were chasing. I check, not ready to put all my money, and $20, into the pot just yet.
One flips over 5,5, and the other flips over the 4,6 for an impressive straight.
Wow. Ouch.
One called my huge bets with nothing, and the other had only a pair of 5s.
I'm here to have fun, so I don't bitch. Nice draw, I say (remember my new edict?).
What's a draw, they ask.
Okaaaaaay.
This is what it's like to play with new, beginning players. Donkeys, they were, but I don't want to be mean. Half of the table barely even knew how to play.
That, as I've shown up above, can be a great thing, but it can also be the most frustrating draw in poker, as you all know by playing with so many donkeys online.
You can't bet them off a hand. They won't raise themselves but they call all your raises, preflop, postflop and pre-post flop.
If they have a draw, they're chasing it, even if they have less than a 5 percent chance of making it. Then they say things like, "I knew that was coming." And so you never know where you are in a hand.
Of course, they will also call your A-high flushes with, well, nothing, just pretty face cards.
It works both ways.
Twice I had A-high, top two pair and lost both times to sets and flushes that shouldn't have been called. And twice I got lucky, once when my pair of 5s held up (my BB put me all in) and another time when a J appeared on the turn to help me through another all-in with the other guy holding A,Q.
I took second, gathered up my $60 and went home.
I promptly put it on a poker Web site.
After all, playing with bad players is frustrating, but, ultimately, it's rewarding as well.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Eureka!!!
I've got it!
I've got a way to insult all those donkeys calling you with crap and getting rewarded for it.
I can't bring myself to say np or nh. I just can't do it. It was not a nh or a np. It was a bs play and you got lucky. Congratulations.
But I don't want to berate people either. I don't want to educate them. And I don't want to continue to hate poker at times, as I do now.
So here it is.
Instead of np or nh, say nice draw.
Nice Draw, sir.
I love it.
1) You've insulted them a little, essentially saying "Boy, that was a fucking stupid play, asshole, but, hey, you were able to draw out on me, and that's poker." Most donkeys, however, won't see the hidden meaning behind that statement, and they'll happily say to you, "ty." Or they'll tell you, yeah, sorry, AA versus KK is a coin flip anyway.
Um, actually, no, it's not, but keep thinking that, sir!
Nice Draw.
2) You've complemented them on their play, encouraging them to call you with shit again.
3) It prevents you from making a fool of yourself by whining about the suckout.
See, my SnGs are still riddled with suckouts lately. In fact, suckouts are the only way I've been getting knocked out lately. It's certainly not from my good opponents' good play. I looked over my notes last week during my disasterous run in SnGs, and all six knowckouts were from horrible suckouts.
Yeah, yeah, that's poker. I'm not complaing anymore. I've bought my brand new computer, mostly with online poker money, so now I can have fun again and not worry so much about trying to make a ton of money. And after Saturday night's successful run at the live casino, I don't think anyone wants to hear any whining. After my SnG last night, when I had A,10 shorthanded and the guy had Q,10 and flopped two Qs, I went to a ring game and quickly made $30.
So the losing streak appears to be over.
So instead of cursing, closing my eyes and hammering at my legs with my fist, I just grit my teeth and type it in the box.
Nice Draw, sir.
Nice Draw.
I've got a way to insult all those donkeys calling you with crap and getting rewarded for it.
I can't bring myself to say np or nh. I just can't do it. It was not a nh or a np. It was a bs play and you got lucky. Congratulations.
But I don't want to berate people either. I don't want to educate them. And I don't want to continue to hate poker at times, as I do now.
So here it is.
Instead of np or nh, say nice draw.
Nice Draw, sir.
I love it.
1) You've insulted them a little, essentially saying "Boy, that was a fucking stupid play, asshole, but, hey, you were able to draw out on me, and that's poker." Most donkeys, however, won't see the hidden meaning behind that statement, and they'll happily say to you, "ty." Or they'll tell you, yeah, sorry, AA versus KK is a coin flip anyway.
Um, actually, no, it's not, but keep thinking that, sir!
Nice Draw.
2) You've complemented them on their play, encouraging them to call you with shit again.
3) It prevents you from making a fool of yourself by whining about the suckout.
See, my SnGs are still riddled with suckouts lately. In fact, suckouts are the only way I've been getting knocked out lately. It's certainly not from my good opponents' good play. I looked over my notes last week during my disasterous run in SnGs, and all six knowckouts were from horrible suckouts.
Yeah, yeah, that's poker. I'm not complaing anymore. I've bought my brand new computer, mostly with online poker money, so now I can have fun again and not worry so much about trying to make a ton of money. And after Saturday night's successful run at the live casino, I don't think anyone wants to hear any whining. After my SnG last night, when I had A,10 shorthanded and the guy had Q,10 and flopped two Qs, I went to a ring game and quickly made $30.
So the losing streak appears to be over.
So instead of cursing, closing my eyes and hammering at my legs with my fist, I just grit my teeth and type it in the box.
Nice Draw, sir.
Nice Draw.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
My Casino cherry gets popped
My heart started thumping as I rode the elevator up to the poker room at the Lodge Casino in Black Hawk, Colorado.
I admit it. I was scared.
Life rarely scares me. If you can:
1) Walk along a ridge no wider than a staircase and stare at a 2,000 foot drop on either side and continue on, as I have many times in my mountain climbing adventures
2) Raise a 9-month old who loves to endanger his life about 20 times a day
3) Drive down Interstate 25 in Colorado,
well, then, you can do anything.
But walking into the pokerroom at the Lodge, with 15 tables, terrified me. The place was mouse-quiet, with the clinking of chips and an occasional groan the only sounds bouncing around. Cigarette smoke drifted to the ceiling.
I immeaditely assume most people are better than me at poker, even though, most of the time, I'm actually one of the better players. It's sort of a habit, actually, of mine to assume that most players are better than me at anything, softball, running, mountain climbing, when, again, usually, I'm one of the better ones.
I never have to prove that to others. I just need to prove it, over and over, to myself.
My $200 in my pocket already seemed gone. My worst month since I started playing for real money, in October, sure as hell didn't help boost my confidence.
A guy who looked 20 and had 80s, Anthony Michael Hall hair, sneered at my question, "So, um, what are the betting structures?" Normally, I could slip into Reporter Mode and tell Mr. Feathered to go F himself, but I meekly slinked away and stared at the 10-person tables.
My wife saw this, raised her eyebrow at my meek reaction to the jackass and came up to me.
"What the hell? You've been looking forward to this for weeks."
"Yeah, but..."
"And you do well at online play all the time."
"Yeah, but..."
"And you've read about 15 books and studied and you watch that damn poker all the time on TV."
"Yeah."
"So get up there and sign up."
OK.
The poker manager, another guy with glasses, thin, wiry hair, and a Don Johnson beard, was much nicer and explained $2/5. There's only one blind, it's $2 to call, and you can bet $5 per round. Yes, you can raise, and the betting is capped at $30.
Or you can play 5/5, when it's $5 to call, you bet $5 every time, and if you're heads up against someone, the betting is unlimited.
"Well, I've never done this before," I said, gaining confidence, even though I have rarely played limit.
"OK, start with $2/5."
OK.
"Should I get my chips now?" I asked.
"Nah, have a seat. A table will open shortly."
Two minutes later, they put together a new table, and I was off.
I brought out my notepad to take a few hands down, but I was amazed at how fast everything seemed to be, as fast as online play. I made up some rules right then:
• Don't worry so much about pot odds. It's limit, so you'll have the odds to call if you want to.
• Play solid, not fancy, poker.
• Fold to most raises.
• Watch, watch and watch everyone there.
• DON'T BE INTIMIDATED.
The last, of course is easier said than done, but as my wife said, "once you sit down, you'll realize it's just poker."
I watched how others bet by grabbing their chips and flipping them across the felt and tried to imitate them, with mixed results. My face probably went a little white when I realized that three at the table knew all the dealers and also knew each other. Shit.
But I soon realized how lucky I was. The table was chatty, not serious, and the guy on my right, a good, solid player, talked to me right away. OK, he was cool. And the guy to my left was from Weld County, my county, and he read my articles all the time and was very nice. A classy-looking woman, with a hairsprayed do and four buttons off her white shirt, smiled at me and said she was waiting for her boyfriend. An old guy with a Broncos hat, a mousey, stone-quiet woman with, I would later learn, an accent, puffed on her cigarettes called everything and Played. Very. Slowly. Even. When. It. Was. Time. To. Turn. The. Cards. Over.
• Then I'm dealt JJ in EP on my fourth hand, and I reach for my chips for the first time. My hands, strangely enough, were not shaking. The conversation calmed me.
"Raise," I say, throwing out another $5 in chips. It's $7 to call.
Six callers.
Shit.
Of course, I had no idea that calls would mean nothing tonight. People were there to play, and play they did, even if that meant calling a raise with nothing. There were, on average, six or seven players in every hand. It was Saturday night, the feeling was right, and they were there to gamble, not play poker.
The cool guy to my right calls, too, and the flop comes trash, trash, trash, with no chances for a straight or a flush. I bet $5, everyone folds, which was a common theme: People wanted to see the flops, but they would fold to the first bet if they had nothing, unless they had draws (which we'll talk about later). Everyone except cool guy to the right, who I knew was good after scooping a $175 pot on the second hand of the night. The way he played his cards told me he knew what he was doing.
But then he opened his mouth.
"I think you've got pockets, and I think your pockets are higher than mine, but I"ll call you," he said.
Why would he say that? Is he fucking with me? I don't think he's fucking with me. He's a nice guy and doesn't believe, so far, anyway, that he needs to lie to me to win.
So he has either QQ or 10,10 or maybe 9,9. He doesn't have a set because he would have re-raised me. So I think I've got him beat.
My question is, in another theme for the night, why would he tell me what he had? Players, all night long, talked far too much. If a third card came down, they would say, "dammit, there's the straight." And if I had the straight, I knew I was good, and yet, they would continue to call my raises.
It blew me away. The play was worse than my home game Friday night. It was worse than online play, much worse, actually.
I was sitting on a gold mine.
Trash card, trash card, and I flip over my JJ and take my first pot of the night.
Now, suddenly, I have a lot of confidence.
I made beginners mistakes too. I tried to take that first pot myself, until the dealer, a cool one, said, "I know you do that at your home game, but let me push it over to you here."
I fiddled with the button until he told me that it could ruin the hand. I needed to be reminded to post my blind a couple times.
But I said, at the table, "This is my first time," and everyone was cool. If they thought I was dumb, all the better. When the hairspray woman said my nose twitched when I had a hand, I twitched it every time I had a hand extra hard, so she thought I was exaggerating. I had fun and started talking to any player, not just my two "friends" on my right and my left. I made jokes and people laughed.
• I'm dealt K,A sooted, and I raise to $7. A few callers, but they all fold to my $5 bet when an A flops. (By the way, I"m sorry I don't have more details on the hands. I tried to take notes but had trouble keeping up with them and observing the table as well).
Mousy woman with accent calls.
Nothing too worrisome on the turn or the flop, and I bet every time, the max.
I win another nice pot.
• I am dealt J,Q, I throw my $2 out there, and I see J,3,7, rainbow. I bet $5, MWWA calls again.
Same deal. Bet, bet, bet, call, sweet.
It was almost irritating, actually. I saw many suckouts that night - thankfully, I never had one against me - because most hang in there, hoping to catch their card. Fold, people.
I saw pocket AA six times and it didn't win the whole night. Too many callers. Guy on my left lost it two times in a row.
• I pitch 7,2 and two other 7s come down, with a fourth on the turn. I obviously don't berate myself for folding 7,2.
• My favorite hand of the night. I have K,K, I raise, hairspray calls. J,10,3 comes down. She bets, I raise, she calls. K on the turn. Sweet. No flush draw, and she bet on the flop, so I'm not that worried about the straight. She bets, I raise again, and she stares me down before calling.
K falls on the river.
OMG.
THEM'S QUADS BEEECHES.
I bet, hoping and praying she will raise me, but she just calls, and I flip over the cards to the oohs and aahs of the table.
Now I"m a badass.
• And then my only suckout of the night comes on the next hand. I have A,10 sooted and I raise. Hairspray lady, who lost her two pair to my quads, is wary but calls it. She would later get drunker and worse as the night went on.
The flop comes A,8,K, rainbow, so I bet $5 and she calls. I put her on a weak A.
3 falls, and she raises my bet. Did that two pair her? It may have, but there's enough money in the pot to call, and I'm on a roll.
The K falls on the turn, I bet, she just calls, and her two pair, A,3, is counterfeited.
I apologize. She accepts.
Then she says, "I'm coming after you now."
I smile.
"I thought you said this was your first time," she said.
"I said it was my first time playing in a casino. It wasn't my first time playing," I say.
"You're cute," she says.
I'm also doing much better than I ever thought I would.
• And just to prove it was my night, I play Q,5 sooted for the hell of it, just for fun, and I get a flush on the turn, and I take another guy who had a lower flush under me to the cleaners.
• I get QQ in the second hour and raise to $7. Everyone except one person folds.
"Well, at least you're paying attention," I say, making fun of my rock image.
I bet the hand when nothing threatening comes down, and the caller, another good player, folds.
My rock image, however, has me up by quite a bit. I don't realize by how much until I ask for the dealer to color me up, trade some chips in, and the floor manager racks up some chips and brings me back my $100 buy in.
Oh.
I misplay two hands, but even then, I believe, the plays were justifiable.
• I have A,Q, and the guy to my right raises $5. I throw out my chips and notice that a red one is one top. The reds are $5. The whites are $1.
"Re-raise," the dealer says.
I pause and don't worry about protesting. I also curse myself and start digging out my red chips out of my white stack. Idiot.
The guy re-raises my raise.
Uh oh.
A,Q, at this point, looks weak. I fold. Everyone at the table seems stunned. The dealer says, "Wow." Yeah. Wow. I folded a good hand. Funny how that works, isn't it?
Guy shows me Q,Q.
Pretty good fold, I think, and maybe, down the line, that mistake re-raise saves me a lot of money.
• I have J,9 on my blind, and it's checked around to me (for some reason, the table stopped raising after the first hour, allowing me limp in with some marginal hands, which we'll see helped me later. I was card-dead for the second hour, mostly, so I didn't care about the lack of action).
J high again, so I bet, and the right to my right raises.
Hmmm. A good player. The flop doesn't look too bad but not too good either.
I fold. Two others call.
He eventually wins with J,3.
Now I did have top pair, and top pair was golden that night (I would win a big pot with K,9, of all things), but I also had a weak kicker. I make that fold again, no problem.
Things settle down a bit. I fold a lot. I have A,9 but fold it to a raise. I get lots of small pocket pairs but none of them flop a set and I pitch them when overcards appear, as they are sure to do.
• Near the end of the third hour, I get 8,9 diamonds, a perfect hand to limp on, and I do, even when I'm in EP, because I know no one will raise me out of it.
The flop? 10,J,7. Yeah, baby.
Two spades, so I bet the max, and a frequent caller to my right raises me.
My wife slinks up behind me. I don't know she is there.
I raise him back another max.
He raises again.
I look things over. I have the nuts so far, and the more times he raises, the more I"m not worried about the flush draw. He must have a set or two pair. I reraise. He looks me over and calls.
• An 8 falls on the turn. Well, Q,9 has me beat now, but I'm not worried about that, especially after this comment:
"Shit, there's the straight."
OK, now I KNOW I'm good, and I raise him to death, and he bets or calls regardless.
"Geez, that took guts," my wife says. "It was fun to watch that."
It was fun for me too.
• On the final hand, the dealer asks me, while I'm stacking chips, if I want to see the cards. Sure, why not? It's free.
I get J,10.
Worth a $2 call, I think.
Flop comes J high again, and I bet out and get a call.
We eventually split it, two pair. I shake hands with everyone, tip the dealer and leave $175 up for the night in three hours. I probably tipped the dealers $15 or $20 for the night.
They deserved it after giving me those sweet hands.
I did it. I proved I could play and win. Maybe not at 2 p.m. on a Tuesday, but on a Saturday night, filled with fish, I proved that I could be the shark.
Thanks go toTrip Jax for his continued encouragement on my blog and my play, Poker Princess for answering my questions on live casino play, Will Wonka Poker for just being encouraging as well, Quest of a Closet Poker Player for the encouragement on my blog the day before I left to play and Low Limit Grinder for yahooing me and reassuring me that, yes, I could do this.
Footnotes:
Yes, I got sweet hands throughout the night. But I still, in my mind, did many things right.
Here they are:
• I folded most of my hands. I didn't play crappy hands. I was lucky because many times the flop did hit my good hands, making it easier to fold mediocre hands later because I could be patient.
• I rarely called. Instead, I raised or folded. I raised if I thought I had the best hand instead of calling. I folded if I wasn't sure if I had the best hand and a player bet at me. I did not lose one showdown that night. That's partly because of luck, of course, but it's also because if I took a hand to the river, I thought I had the best hand.
• If I had a hand, I bet at it, instead of checking. The players checked far too often, letting people hit their draws or not getting value for their hands. People slowplayed AA, which is deadly in limit. No free cards.
• If someone raised, I usually folded, even at that loose, wild table.
• I did not chase.
• I folded if the flop did not hit.
• I was patient. I was so, so patient.
• Finally, and this is important, I did not drink. I ran 11 miles earlier that day, farther than I've ever run before, and I knew I would be a little tired. So I did not drink anything except water.
It helped. A lot.
I admit it. I was scared.
Life rarely scares me. If you can:
1) Walk along a ridge no wider than a staircase and stare at a 2,000 foot drop on either side and continue on, as I have many times in my mountain climbing adventures
2) Raise a 9-month old who loves to endanger his life about 20 times a day
3) Drive down Interstate 25 in Colorado,
well, then, you can do anything.
But walking into the pokerroom at the Lodge, with 15 tables, terrified me. The place was mouse-quiet, with the clinking of chips and an occasional groan the only sounds bouncing around. Cigarette smoke drifted to the ceiling.
I immeaditely assume most people are better than me at poker, even though, most of the time, I'm actually one of the better players. It's sort of a habit, actually, of mine to assume that most players are better than me at anything, softball, running, mountain climbing, when, again, usually, I'm one of the better ones.
I never have to prove that to others. I just need to prove it, over and over, to myself.
My $200 in my pocket already seemed gone. My worst month since I started playing for real money, in October, sure as hell didn't help boost my confidence.
A guy who looked 20 and had 80s, Anthony Michael Hall hair, sneered at my question, "So, um, what are the betting structures?" Normally, I could slip into Reporter Mode and tell Mr. Feathered to go F himself, but I meekly slinked away and stared at the 10-person tables.
My wife saw this, raised her eyebrow at my meek reaction to the jackass and came up to me.
"What the hell? You've been looking forward to this for weeks."
"Yeah, but..."
"And you do well at online play all the time."
"Yeah, but..."
"And you've read about 15 books and studied and you watch that damn poker all the time on TV."
"Yeah."
"So get up there and sign up."
OK.
The poker manager, another guy with glasses, thin, wiry hair, and a Don Johnson beard, was much nicer and explained $2/5. There's only one blind, it's $2 to call, and you can bet $5 per round. Yes, you can raise, and the betting is capped at $30.
Or you can play 5/5, when it's $5 to call, you bet $5 every time, and if you're heads up against someone, the betting is unlimited.
"Well, I've never done this before," I said, gaining confidence, even though I have rarely played limit.
"OK, start with $2/5."
OK.
"Should I get my chips now?" I asked.
"Nah, have a seat. A table will open shortly."
Two minutes later, they put together a new table, and I was off.
I brought out my notepad to take a few hands down, but I was amazed at how fast everything seemed to be, as fast as online play. I made up some rules right then:
• Don't worry so much about pot odds. It's limit, so you'll have the odds to call if you want to.
• Play solid, not fancy, poker.
• Fold to most raises.
• Watch, watch and watch everyone there.
• DON'T BE INTIMIDATED.
The last, of course is easier said than done, but as my wife said, "once you sit down, you'll realize it's just poker."
I watched how others bet by grabbing their chips and flipping them across the felt and tried to imitate them, with mixed results. My face probably went a little white when I realized that three at the table knew all the dealers and also knew each other. Shit.
But I soon realized how lucky I was. The table was chatty, not serious, and the guy on my right, a good, solid player, talked to me right away. OK, he was cool. And the guy to my left was from Weld County, my county, and he read my articles all the time and was very nice. A classy-looking woman, with a hairsprayed do and four buttons off her white shirt, smiled at me and said she was waiting for her boyfriend. An old guy with a Broncos hat, a mousey, stone-quiet woman with, I would later learn, an accent, puffed on her cigarettes called everything and Played. Very. Slowly. Even. When. It. Was. Time. To. Turn. The. Cards. Over.
• Then I'm dealt JJ in EP on my fourth hand, and I reach for my chips for the first time. My hands, strangely enough, were not shaking. The conversation calmed me.
"Raise," I say, throwing out another $5 in chips. It's $7 to call.
Six callers.
Shit.
Of course, I had no idea that calls would mean nothing tonight. People were there to play, and play they did, even if that meant calling a raise with nothing. There were, on average, six or seven players in every hand. It was Saturday night, the feeling was right, and they were there to gamble, not play poker.
The cool guy to my right calls, too, and the flop comes trash, trash, trash, with no chances for a straight or a flush. I bet $5, everyone folds, which was a common theme: People wanted to see the flops, but they would fold to the first bet if they had nothing, unless they had draws (which we'll talk about later). Everyone except cool guy to the right, who I knew was good after scooping a $175 pot on the second hand of the night. The way he played his cards told me he knew what he was doing.
But then he opened his mouth.
"I think you've got pockets, and I think your pockets are higher than mine, but I"ll call you," he said.
Why would he say that? Is he fucking with me? I don't think he's fucking with me. He's a nice guy and doesn't believe, so far, anyway, that he needs to lie to me to win.
So he has either QQ or 10,10 or maybe 9,9. He doesn't have a set because he would have re-raised me. So I think I've got him beat.
My question is, in another theme for the night, why would he tell me what he had? Players, all night long, talked far too much. If a third card came down, they would say, "dammit, there's the straight." And if I had the straight, I knew I was good, and yet, they would continue to call my raises.
It blew me away. The play was worse than my home game Friday night. It was worse than online play, much worse, actually.
I was sitting on a gold mine.
Trash card, trash card, and I flip over my JJ and take my first pot of the night.
Now, suddenly, I have a lot of confidence.
I made beginners mistakes too. I tried to take that first pot myself, until the dealer, a cool one, said, "I know you do that at your home game, but let me push it over to you here."
I fiddled with the button until he told me that it could ruin the hand. I needed to be reminded to post my blind a couple times.
But I said, at the table, "This is my first time," and everyone was cool. If they thought I was dumb, all the better. When the hairspray woman said my nose twitched when I had a hand, I twitched it every time I had a hand extra hard, so she thought I was exaggerating. I had fun and started talking to any player, not just my two "friends" on my right and my left. I made jokes and people laughed.
• I'm dealt K,A sooted, and I raise to $7. A few callers, but they all fold to my $5 bet when an A flops. (By the way, I"m sorry I don't have more details on the hands. I tried to take notes but had trouble keeping up with them and observing the table as well).
Mousy woman with accent calls.
Nothing too worrisome on the turn or the flop, and I bet every time, the max.
I win another nice pot.
• I am dealt J,Q, I throw my $2 out there, and I see J,3,7, rainbow. I bet $5, MWWA calls again.
Same deal. Bet, bet, bet, call, sweet.
It was almost irritating, actually. I saw many suckouts that night - thankfully, I never had one against me - because most hang in there, hoping to catch their card. Fold, people.
I saw pocket AA six times and it didn't win the whole night. Too many callers. Guy on my left lost it two times in a row.
• I pitch 7,2 and two other 7s come down, with a fourth on the turn. I obviously don't berate myself for folding 7,2.
• My favorite hand of the night. I have K,K, I raise, hairspray calls. J,10,3 comes down. She bets, I raise, she calls. K on the turn. Sweet. No flush draw, and she bet on the flop, so I'm not that worried about the straight. She bets, I raise again, and she stares me down before calling.
K falls on the river.
OMG.
THEM'S QUADS BEEECHES.
I bet, hoping and praying she will raise me, but she just calls, and I flip over the cards to the oohs and aahs of the table.
Now I"m a badass.
• And then my only suckout of the night comes on the next hand. I have A,10 sooted and I raise. Hairspray lady, who lost her two pair to my quads, is wary but calls it. She would later get drunker and worse as the night went on.
The flop comes A,8,K, rainbow, so I bet $5 and she calls. I put her on a weak A.
3 falls, and she raises my bet. Did that two pair her? It may have, but there's enough money in the pot to call, and I'm on a roll.
The K falls on the turn, I bet, she just calls, and her two pair, A,3, is counterfeited.
I apologize. She accepts.
Then she says, "I'm coming after you now."
I smile.
"I thought you said this was your first time," she said.
"I said it was my first time playing in a casino. It wasn't my first time playing," I say.
"You're cute," she says.
I'm also doing much better than I ever thought I would.
• And just to prove it was my night, I play Q,5 sooted for the hell of it, just for fun, and I get a flush on the turn, and I take another guy who had a lower flush under me to the cleaners.
• I get QQ in the second hour and raise to $7. Everyone except one person folds.
"Well, at least you're paying attention," I say, making fun of my rock image.
I bet the hand when nothing threatening comes down, and the caller, another good player, folds.
My rock image, however, has me up by quite a bit. I don't realize by how much until I ask for the dealer to color me up, trade some chips in, and the floor manager racks up some chips and brings me back my $100 buy in.
Oh.
I misplay two hands, but even then, I believe, the plays were justifiable.
• I have A,Q, and the guy to my right raises $5. I throw out my chips and notice that a red one is one top. The reds are $5. The whites are $1.
"Re-raise," the dealer says.
I pause and don't worry about protesting. I also curse myself and start digging out my red chips out of my white stack. Idiot.
The guy re-raises my raise.
Uh oh.
A,Q, at this point, looks weak. I fold. Everyone at the table seems stunned. The dealer says, "Wow." Yeah. Wow. I folded a good hand. Funny how that works, isn't it?
Guy shows me Q,Q.
Pretty good fold, I think, and maybe, down the line, that mistake re-raise saves me a lot of money.
• I have J,9 on my blind, and it's checked around to me (for some reason, the table stopped raising after the first hour, allowing me limp in with some marginal hands, which we'll see helped me later. I was card-dead for the second hour, mostly, so I didn't care about the lack of action).
J high again, so I bet, and the right to my right raises.
Hmmm. A good player. The flop doesn't look too bad but not too good either.
I fold. Two others call.
He eventually wins with J,3.
Now I did have top pair, and top pair was golden that night (I would win a big pot with K,9, of all things), but I also had a weak kicker. I make that fold again, no problem.
Things settle down a bit. I fold a lot. I have A,9 but fold it to a raise. I get lots of small pocket pairs but none of them flop a set and I pitch them when overcards appear, as they are sure to do.
• Near the end of the third hour, I get 8,9 diamonds, a perfect hand to limp on, and I do, even when I'm in EP, because I know no one will raise me out of it.
The flop? 10,J,7. Yeah, baby.
Two spades, so I bet the max, and a frequent caller to my right raises me.
My wife slinks up behind me. I don't know she is there.
I raise him back another max.
He raises again.
I look things over. I have the nuts so far, and the more times he raises, the more I"m not worried about the flush draw. He must have a set or two pair. I reraise. He looks me over and calls.
• An 8 falls on the turn. Well, Q,9 has me beat now, but I'm not worried about that, especially after this comment:
"Shit, there's the straight."
OK, now I KNOW I'm good, and I raise him to death, and he bets or calls regardless.
"Geez, that took guts," my wife says. "It was fun to watch that."
It was fun for me too.
• On the final hand, the dealer asks me, while I'm stacking chips, if I want to see the cards. Sure, why not? It's free.
I get J,10.
Worth a $2 call, I think.
Flop comes J high again, and I bet out and get a call.
We eventually split it, two pair. I shake hands with everyone, tip the dealer and leave $175 up for the night in three hours. I probably tipped the dealers $15 or $20 for the night.
They deserved it after giving me those sweet hands.
I did it. I proved I could play and win. Maybe not at 2 p.m. on a Tuesday, but on a Saturday night, filled with fish, I proved that I could be the shark.
Thanks go to
Footnotes:
Yes, I got sweet hands throughout the night. But I still, in my mind, did many things right.
Here they are:
• I folded most of my hands. I didn't play crappy hands. I was lucky because many times the flop did hit my good hands, making it easier to fold mediocre hands later because I could be patient.
• I rarely called. Instead, I raised or folded. I raised if I thought I had the best hand instead of calling. I folded if I wasn't sure if I had the best hand and a player bet at me. I did not lose one showdown that night. That's partly because of luck, of course, but it's also because if I took a hand to the river, I thought I had the best hand.
• If I had a hand, I bet at it, instead of checking. The players checked far too often, letting people hit their draws or not getting value for their hands. People slowplayed AA, which is deadly in limit. No free cards.
• If someone raised, I usually folded, even at that loose, wild table.
• I did not chase.
• I folded if the flop did not hit.
• I was patient. I was so, so patient.
• Finally, and this is important, I did not drink. I ran 11 miles earlier that day, farther than I've ever run before, and I knew I would be a little tired. So I did not drink anything except water.
It helped. A lot.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
The streak is starting to crack..
So wish me luck this weekend.
I'll be playing live poker two days in a row.
Friday night it'll be buddies, a little nicker-dimer stuff, so that won't be a big deal.
But Saturday will be my first time in a casino.
I've always wanted to play poker in a casino, even before I knew you could put percentages on hands and I thought poker on TV was boring to watch.
Now, after more than a year under my poker belt, I figure I'm ready to dive in.
I don't know what's going to happen. I could lose the $200 I plan to bring (I got the money from a freelance article, so it's almost free money. At least that's what I've told my yet-to-be-convinced-wife).
Or I could win a lot.
Or I could break event.
Two out of three sound pretty good to me.
It comes at the right time, when my tournament play has been good, even if the results don't show it in some ways. I've bubbled out of far too many SnGs when the blinds swallowed me up and my good hands lost their races in the inevitable all-ins (my JJ versus QK or my K,10 versus Q,J, for example),, but I have crushed the $2.25 tournaments at work, cashing 6/7 and making $26.
The ring games, however, continue to be bleechy. This week hasn't been too bad, but it's been far below what I like to think are my standards. The suckouts have disappeared, but that's mostly because I've played very few hands. I've been so very, very card dead. I've seen more 9, 5s than an office worker. And watching decent players take advantage of all the donkeys I've seen spewing chips because they think their second pair is gold (but there's an A attached!) has been so frustrating.
People raise me, and I either call and get burned or they raise and I fold TPTK and they show me nothing.
Sigh.
It'll come back. It has to. But I'm ready for a hot streak. let's hope Saturday starts it.
I'll be playing live poker two days in a row.
Friday night it'll be buddies, a little nicker-dimer stuff, so that won't be a big deal.
But Saturday will be my first time in a casino.
I've always wanted to play poker in a casino, even before I knew you could put percentages on hands and I thought poker on TV was boring to watch.
Now, after more than a year under my poker belt, I figure I'm ready to dive in.
I don't know what's going to happen. I could lose the $200 I plan to bring (I got the money from a freelance article, so it's almost free money. At least that's what I've told my yet-to-be-convinced-wife).
Or I could win a lot.
Or I could break event.
Two out of three sound pretty good to me.
It comes at the right time, when my tournament play has been good, even if the results don't show it in some ways. I've bubbled out of far too many SnGs when the blinds swallowed me up and my good hands lost their races in the inevitable all-ins (my JJ versus QK or my K,10 versus Q,J, for example),, but I have crushed the $2.25 tournaments at work, cashing 6/7 and making $26.
The ring games, however, continue to be bleechy. This week hasn't been too bad, but it's been far below what I like to think are my standards. The suckouts have disappeared, but that's mostly because I've played very few hands. I've been so very, very card dead. I've seen more 9, 5s than an office worker. And watching decent players take advantage of all the donkeys I've seen spewing chips because they think their second pair is gold (but there's an A attached!) has been so frustrating.
People raise me, and I either call and get burned or they raise and I fold TPTK and they show me nothing.
Sigh.
It'll come back. It has to. But I'm ready for a hot streak. let's hope Saturday starts it.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
My nose against the glass
I am sitting in my computer chair, with my arms crossed, rocking back and forth and mumbling to myself, a numb zombie against the poker forces that have kicked my ass this March.
Poker, officially, is no fun anymore.
These last few weeks, I’ve felt like a poor kid at Christmas being forced to watch as his cousins open present after present, while all I get to open is a candy cane, and one of those awful strawberry ones at that.
I’ve looked over my notes, and in these last few weeks, during the worst month of my young poker career, I have played the best poker of my life.
And as a reward, I’m going to lose money for the first time this month.
Yep, March will be in the red.
Through it all, everything I know about poker seems to be a lie.
I can’t believe the percentages anymore. I’ve lost far too many all-ins when “the percentages” say I’m at least a 4-1 favorite or higher. Many times, these have cost me a tournament that, had I won the race I was heavily favored to win, I would have cashed for sure.
As an example, Friday night I was playing a 30-person SnG when, again, I was playing great poker, bluffing at just the right times despite getting no hands (which, also, seems to be a pattern this month).
I got JJ and, seeing a raise from a donkey, decided to push all in, hoping he would fold, but confident I had the best cards if he didn’t.
Sure enough, he calls with 7,7.
Sweet. I win this and I’m well on my way to the final table and a cash.
Flop comes 8,9,10, which worries me, but only for a second. I have the straight draw, too, only I have the higher straight.
10 comes on the turn.
6 falls on the river.
It’s happened far too often this month for me to believe now that JJ against 7,7 is a 50/50 proposition at best.
The worst part about this streak, other than being patient and then having my rare good hands getting fucked on the river, is watching so many bad plays get rewarded, and not just against me.
All Friday night, after my knockout in the 30-person game, I watched top pairs with weak kickers win 100 BB pots. Over and over, I saw crazy, transparent bluffs get picked off with low pair. Or someone pushing all in and catching their miracle card on the turn or the river.
I would imagine the feeling I had would be like walking into the Playboy Mansion and having no girls look your way while the guys who inspired the movie “Revenge of the Nerds” have one on each arm.
Here’s a hand from the 30-person SnG I played Saturday night:
ANTES/BLINDS
Leykis 101 posts blind ($25), Bones6538 posts blind ($50).
PRE-FLOP
brandon2x folds, mikmerlo folds, 8overeasy folds, dengl5 folds, brutus8070 folds, corey33bd calls $50, DirtySants calls $50, Leykis 101 bets $225, Bones6538 folds, corey33bd folds, DirtySants calls $200.
FLOP [board cards 7H,9S,10C ]
Leykis 101 bets $250, DirtySants calls $250.
TURN [board cards 7H,9S,10C,KD ]
Leykis 101 bets $400, DirtySants bets $1,000, Leykis 101 calls $600.
RIVER [board cards 7H,9S,10C,KD,5D ]
Leykis 101 checks, DirtySants bets $1,000, Leykis 101 calls $1,000.
SHOWDOWN
DirtySants shows [ JC,QH ]
Leykis 101 mucks cards [ JS,KC ]
DirtySants wins $5,100.
By the way, last time I check, Leykis, the guy who thougth his J,K was gold, was chip leader by a lot and well on his way to winning, off hands like thisone:
ANTES/BLINDS
DirtySants posts blind ($100), Leykis 101 posts blind ($200).
PRE-FLOP
Bones6538 bets $600, brandon2x folds, mikmerlo folds, dengl5 folds, DirtySants folds, Leykis 101 bets $800, Bones6538 calls $400.
FLOP [board cards 5H,QC,8D ]
Leykis 101 bets $200, Bones6538 bets $700, Leykis 101 calls $500.
TURN [board cards 5H,QC,8D,8S ]
Leykis 101 bets $1,000, Bones6538 calls $1,000.
RIVER [board cards 5H,QC,8D,8S,5D ]
Leykis 101 bets $1,000, Bones6538 calls $1,000.
SHOWDOWN
Leykis 101 shows [ JD,JH ]
Bones6538 mucks cards [ 10H,KH ]
Leykis 101 wins $7,500.
Of course, watching plays like this over and over, and getting no hands in that cash session for yet another card-dead hour (and when I say no hands, I’m not whining because I’m not dealt AA, I’m talking K,J looks GREAT kind of card dead), when I was finally dealt A,Q, I raised $1, and I had two callers, and a Q fell, with Q,10,8 on the board. I have TPTK.
I bet a quarter of my stack.
One caller.
I bet again, when a harmless 3 falls, and he raises me $3.
OK, normally I fold, but I’ve watched guys putting too much into their top pair all night, and I ignore the straight draw because surely he wouldn’t call a raise with J,9 would he?
He pushes all in. I call.
Bad call.
He would call a raise with J,9.
It’s such a brutal, confusing streak that it’s gotten me to start making bad calls. I’m being influenced by donkeys, and that is not a good influence. It's made me question everything I thought I knew about my playing. I must play too few hands because I'm not getting I'm happy with, I think as I endure yet another card-dead session. I must not try to bluff enough, knowing that bluffing with 5 loose players in a pot is a bad play (and when isn't there that many players in a cash game online?). I must fold too much, knowing that, in fact, me not folding last night was the problem that led to me being in a hole.
The streak, in fact, has taken an activity I truly loved and wrung all the joy out of it, even though it's not the money. I won't go broke anytime soon. My bankroll is healthy. I honestly haven't even lost that much.
But now I honestly feel like a junkie, where I play because I have to, hoping for the highs of before and only feeding the addiction instead of getting any real pleasure like I used to.
Surely the highs have come again, right? I mean, this can’t last forever, can it? I scratch my arm where the needle would go, hoping I can continue to chase the dragon before it burns me for good.
Poker, officially, is no fun anymore.
These last few weeks, I’ve felt like a poor kid at Christmas being forced to watch as his cousins open present after present, while all I get to open is a candy cane, and one of those awful strawberry ones at that.
I’ve looked over my notes, and in these last few weeks, during the worst month of my young poker career, I have played the best poker of my life.
And as a reward, I’m going to lose money for the first time this month.
Yep, March will be in the red.
Through it all, everything I know about poker seems to be a lie.
I can’t believe the percentages anymore. I’ve lost far too many all-ins when “the percentages” say I’m at least a 4-1 favorite or higher. Many times, these have cost me a tournament that, had I won the race I was heavily favored to win, I would have cashed for sure.
As an example, Friday night I was playing a 30-person SnG when, again, I was playing great poker, bluffing at just the right times despite getting no hands (which, also, seems to be a pattern this month).
I got JJ and, seeing a raise from a donkey, decided to push all in, hoping he would fold, but confident I had the best cards if he didn’t.
Sure enough, he calls with 7,7.
Sweet. I win this and I’m well on my way to the final table and a cash.
Flop comes 8,9,10, which worries me, but only for a second. I have the straight draw, too, only I have the higher straight.
10 comes on the turn.
6 falls on the river.
It’s happened far too often this month for me to believe now that JJ against 7,7 is a 50/50 proposition at best.
The worst part about this streak, other than being patient and then having my rare good hands getting fucked on the river, is watching so many bad plays get rewarded, and not just against me.
All Friday night, after my knockout in the 30-person game, I watched top pairs with weak kickers win 100 BB pots. Over and over, I saw crazy, transparent bluffs get picked off with low pair. Or someone pushing all in and catching their miracle card on the turn or the river.
I would imagine the feeling I had would be like walking into the Playboy Mansion and having no girls look your way while the guys who inspired the movie “Revenge of the Nerds” have one on each arm.
Here’s a hand from the 30-person SnG I played Saturday night:
ANTES/BLINDS
Leykis 101 posts blind ($25), Bones6538 posts blind ($50).
PRE-FLOP
brandon2x folds, mikmerlo folds, 8overeasy folds, dengl5 folds, brutus8070 folds, corey33bd calls $50, DirtySants calls $50, Leykis 101 bets $225, Bones6538 folds, corey33bd folds, DirtySants calls $200.
FLOP [board cards 7H,9S,10C ]
Leykis 101 bets $250, DirtySants calls $250.
TURN [board cards 7H,9S,10C,KD ]
Leykis 101 bets $400, DirtySants bets $1,000, Leykis 101 calls $600.
RIVER [board cards 7H,9S,10C,KD,5D ]
Leykis 101 checks, DirtySants bets $1,000, Leykis 101 calls $1,000.
SHOWDOWN
DirtySants shows [ JC,QH ]
Leykis 101 mucks cards [ JS,KC ]
DirtySants wins $5,100.
By the way, last time I check, Leykis, the guy who thougth his J,K was gold, was chip leader by a lot and well on his way to winning, off hands like thisone:
ANTES/BLINDS
DirtySants posts blind ($100), Leykis 101 posts blind ($200).
PRE-FLOP
Bones6538 bets $600, brandon2x folds, mikmerlo folds, dengl5 folds, DirtySants folds, Leykis 101 bets $800, Bones6538 calls $400.
FLOP [board cards 5H,QC,8D ]
Leykis 101 bets $200, Bones6538 bets $700, Leykis 101 calls $500.
TURN [board cards 5H,QC,8D,8S ]
Leykis 101 bets $1,000, Bones6538 calls $1,000.
RIVER [board cards 5H,QC,8D,8S,5D ]
Leykis 101 bets $1,000, Bones6538 calls $1,000.
SHOWDOWN
Leykis 101 shows [ JD,JH ]
Bones6538 mucks cards [ 10H,KH ]
Leykis 101 wins $7,500.
Of course, watching plays like this over and over, and getting no hands in that cash session for yet another card-dead hour (and when I say no hands, I’m not whining because I’m not dealt AA, I’m talking K,J looks GREAT kind of card dead), when I was finally dealt A,Q, I raised $1, and I had two callers, and a Q fell, with Q,10,8 on the board. I have TPTK.
I bet a quarter of my stack.
One caller.
I bet again, when a harmless 3 falls, and he raises me $3.
OK, normally I fold, but I’ve watched guys putting too much into their top pair all night, and I ignore the straight draw because surely he wouldn’t call a raise with J,9 would he?
He pushes all in. I call.
Bad call.
He would call a raise with J,9.
It’s such a brutal, confusing streak that it’s gotten me to start making bad calls. I’m being influenced by donkeys, and that is not a good influence. It's made me question everything I thought I knew about my playing. I must play too few hands because I'm not getting I'm happy with, I think as I endure yet another card-dead session. I must not try to bluff enough, knowing that bluffing with 5 loose players in a pot is a bad play (and when isn't there that many players in a cash game online?). I must fold too much, knowing that, in fact, me not folding last night was the problem that led to me being in a hole.
The streak, in fact, has taken an activity I truly loved and wrung all the joy out of it, even though it's not the money. I won't go broke anytime soon. My bankroll is healthy. I honestly haven't even lost that much.
But now I honestly feel like a junkie, where I play because I have to, hoping for the highs of before and only feeding the addiction instead of getting any real pleasure like I used to.
Surely the highs have come again, right? I mean, this can’t last forever, can it? I scratch my arm where the needle would go, hoping I can continue to chase the dragon before it burns me for good.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Just as I thought...
I played a $10 SnG for just the third time in my life last night and took second for a decent cash. The guy sucked out on me, of course, at the end when he got runner, runner for a straight, but that's OK.
The players were just a touch better, which actually made it easier to play. After the last two donkeys chipped out, bringing us to three, we battled for quite a while.
Player A was far too predictable, but that's probably the weakest part of my game, too. Player B was harder to read, but he went all-in far too much, which got him chips but would eventually kill him when he pushed too hard with a pair of pocket 9s with 10 high on the board and the guy flipped over A,10.
One side note: Don't ever motivate a player.
I was low stacked and starting to try to find a hand to go to war with (i.e., sort of give up, we've all done it, and I was very discouraged after this month) when Player A said to us, "You both have a lot to learn about playing poker."
Oh, really?
Well, after my 3,3 smashed his pretty A,Q, and I doubled against him, I was bound and determined to crash his ass. I bluffed more than I do, played hands carefully and doubled up against him two more times, when my AA destroyed his QQ and my A,9 dominanted his A,7.
Every time, I typed in the box, "Gosh, if only I could learn how to play."
In fact, I would have had him and his huge mongo stack (he got from getting gift hands and even larger gift calls from the donkeys) if it wasn't for his runner, runner, but he admitted I scared him after sucking out on me.
Whew, he said. Remind me never to talk again.
Here's your reminder.
The players were just a touch better, which actually made it easier to play. After the last two donkeys chipped out, bringing us to three, we battled for quite a while.
Player A was far too predictable, but that's probably the weakest part of my game, too. Player B was harder to read, but he went all-in far too much, which got him chips but would eventually kill him when he pushed too hard with a pair of pocket 9s with 10 high on the board and the guy flipped over A,10.
One side note: Don't ever motivate a player.
I was low stacked and starting to try to find a hand to go to war with (i.e., sort of give up, we've all done it, and I was very discouraged after this month) when Player A said to us, "You both have a lot to learn about playing poker."
Oh, really?
Well, after my 3,3 smashed his pretty A,Q, and I doubled against him, I was bound and determined to crash his ass. I bluffed more than I do, played hands carefully and doubled up against him two more times, when my AA destroyed his QQ and my A,9 dominanted his A,7.
Every time, I typed in the box, "Gosh, if only I could learn how to play."
In fact, I would have had him and his huge mongo stack (he got from getting gift hands and even larger gift calls from the donkeys) if it wasn't for his runner, runner, but he admitted I scared him after sucking out on me.
Whew, he said. Remind me never to talk again.
Here's your reminder.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Stuck in between
OK, I just realized something.
Sometimes a good old fashioned rant can help clear your head.
If I'm going to continue to play $5.50 tournaments and $2.25 tournaments at work, I'm going to have to learn to accept more suckouts and just grit my teeth when they happen.
I play them because:
• I'm still a bit of a chickenshit and struggle with the idea of putting up more money for a SnG where anything can happen, even though I know I could hang with them and probably even be successful at them.
• I'm still trying to improve both my skill and my bankroll, giving me even more confidence to play at the higher levels.
• I know I'm one of the better players at the table when I play at the my level, and I want to take advantage of the weaker players.
• The $2.25 tournaments at work require very little attention on my part until it gets down to the nitty gritty, so I can play them and still keep my job. :)
But if I continue to stay in the barn, I'm going to have to accept the fact that I'm hanging with donkeys, and donkeys, of course, make donkey moves.
Most (Some?) of the time, this is profitable for us aggressive-tight players. But it can also be incredibly frustrating, as you just saw, when the donkeys' moves continually pay off the donkeys and leave you bitching and empty-handed.
So maybe I continue to play the $2.25 tournaments and smile not only when I collect money at the end of the week from them, as I almost always do, but smile through gritted teeth when I get donkeyed over and over and over.
Sometimes a good old fashioned rant can help clear your head.
If I'm going to continue to play $5.50 tournaments and $2.25 tournaments at work, I'm going to have to learn to accept more suckouts and just grit my teeth when they happen.
I play them because:
• I'm still a bit of a chickenshit and struggle with the idea of putting up more money for a SnG where anything can happen, even though I know I could hang with them and probably even be successful at them.
• I'm still trying to improve both my skill and my bankroll, giving me even more confidence to play at the higher levels.
• I know I'm one of the better players at the table when I play at the my level, and I want to take advantage of the weaker players.
• The $2.25 tournaments at work require very little attention on my part until it gets down to the nitty gritty, so I can play them and still keep my job. :)
But if I continue to stay in the barn, I'm going to have to accept the fact that I'm hanging with donkeys, and donkeys, of course, make donkey moves.
Most (Some?) of the time, this is profitable for us aggressive-tight players. But it can also be incredibly frustrating, as you just saw, when the donkeys' moves continually pay off the donkeys and leave you bitching and empty-handed.
So maybe I continue to play the $2.25 tournaments and smile not only when I collect money at the end of the week from them, as I almost always do, but smile through gritted teeth when I get donkeyed over and over and over.
Fuck March
(Editor's note: It's rant time. Deal with it.)
First my Jayhawks lose in the NCAA tournament.
Now I suffer yet another week of suckouts.
I really can't tell you how many times I've been in with the best of it and the river has fucked me.
At least 20.
I'm serious.
I know you won't believe me, but it's true.
OK, Variance, thank you for a wonderful February, no need to punish me anymore for it.
The thing that really pisses me off is I rarely, rarely suck out. Almost never. Maybe once this month.
Why? Because I'm not a fucking donkey. I don't get my money in with the worst of it. I don't call a fucking all-in with two diamonds when I am chip leader so I can get my third on the river and then type in the box about how I knew that was going to happen.
So, what I'm saying is, I don't need suckout luck. I don't really even need much luck, other than getting hands to play.
What I need is normal poker. When I put my money in with the best of it, I need to win most of the time. Notice I am not saying all of the time. Like, say, when I get my money in, and I'm an 80 percent favorite, I need to win 80 percent of the time, instead of losing 80 percent of the time.
I should not be punished for playing good poker.
But I am.
So fuck you, donkey.
Fuck you, variance.
Fuck you, poker gods.
Just go fuck yourself.
Please.
First my Jayhawks lose in the NCAA tournament.
Now I suffer yet another week of suckouts.
I really can't tell you how many times I've been in with the best of it and the river has fucked me.
At least 20.
I'm serious.
I know you won't believe me, but it's true.
OK, Variance, thank you for a wonderful February, no need to punish me anymore for it.
The thing that really pisses me off is I rarely, rarely suck out. Almost never. Maybe once this month.
Why? Because I'm not a fucking donkey. I don't get my money in with the worst of it. I don't call a fucking all-in with two diamonds when I am chip leader so I can get my third on the river and then type in the box about how I knew that was going to happen.
So, what I'm saying is, I don't need suckout luck. I don't really even need much luck, other than getting hands to play.
What I need is normal poker. When I put my money in with the best of it, I need to win most of the time. Notice I am not saying all of the time. Like, say, when I get my money in, and I'm an 80 percent favorite, I need to win 80 percent of the time, instead of losing 80 percent of the time.
I should not be punished for playing good poker.
But I am.
So fuck you, donkey.
Fuck you, variance.
Fuck you, poker gods.
Just go fuck yourself.
Please.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Bad Boy
You have AA in third seat. You raise 4x the BB. Someone raises you back. You call.
The flop comes K,2,7.
You bet a fifth of your stack and you get called.
A 4 falls on the turn.
You shove all in because nothing frightens you out there and this is a $5.50 tournament.
The guy calls you with K,4.
Now, instead of asking you a poker question, I ask you now.
What do you do?
Do you say nh, congratulate him or berate him?
Well, I broke my rule and berated him.
Nice hand, donkey, I said.
Fortunately, I was able to control myself when I was answered with, "?????."
I didn't say anything else. Don't educate bad players, says Mike Caro, and I agree. Plus my classy outburst was enough anyway.
I am a competitive person, almost to a fault, which is one reason why I love poker tournaments and play many of them, even if ring games are always more profitable for me.
Occasionally, that competitive spirit gets the best of me.
Usually I just sit there if a guy outdraws me, but as the bad beats pile up, my ability to take them cracks and then starts to fall down before it finally collapses and I rip into a guy for calling my AA with KK even when "he knew I had aces" but gets his K on the turn, as I did last week, when it seemed like every time I was ahead when I got all my money in, I would lose.
I hate table captains and will even tell them to shut up when a guy makes a mistake and Capt. Poker chirps up, "How can you call that?" in the chat box.
But lately, I've found myself wearing the Skipper's Hat.
So, this is my New Year's Resolution, as I did not make one until now. I will not, cannot and won't not say anything but nh, sir when as donkey outdraws me.
I'll just take their money next time.
It appears that, for the moment, my losing streak is over, but it's not like I'm on a tear. I've been mostly card-dead and unlucky in tournaments, but that's better than suckouts. At least you don't lose a lot of money that way.
And your dignity.
The flop comes K,2,7.
You bet a fifth of your stack and you get called.
A 4 falls on the turn.
You shove all in because nothing frightens you out there and this is a $5.50 tournament.
The guy calls you with K,4.
Now, instead of asking you a poker question, I ask you now.
What do you do?
Do you say nh, congratulate him or berate him?
Well, I broke my rule and berated him.
Nice hand, donkey, I said.
Fortunately, I was able to control myself when I was answered with, "?????."
I didn't say anything else. Don't educate bad players, says Mike Caro, and I agree. Plus my classy outburst was enough anyway.
I am a competitive person, almost to a fault, which is one reason why I love poker tournaments and play many of them, even if ring games are always more profitable for me.
Occasionally, that competitive spirit gets the best of me.
Usually I just sit there if a guy outdraws me, but as the bad beats pile up, my ability to take them cracks and then starts to fall down before it finally collapses and I rip into a guy for calling my AA with KK even when "he knew I had aces" but gets his K on the turn, as I did last week, when it seemed like every time I was ahead when I got all my money in, I would lose.
I hate table captains and will even tell them to shut up when a guy makes a mistake and Capt. Poker chirps up, "How can you call that?" in the chat box.
But lately, I've found myself wearing the Skipper's Hat.
So, this is my New Year's Resolution, as I did not make one until now. I will not, cannot and won't not say anything but nh, sir when as donkey outdraws me.
I'll just take their money next time.
It appears that, for the moment, my losing streak is over, but it's not like I'm on a tear. I've been mostly card-dead and unlucky in tournaments, but that's better than suckouts. At least you don't lose a lot of money that way.
And your dignity.
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