A good friend of mine used to say, "This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains." Think about that for a while. --Bull Durham
It never ceases to amaze me how, after taking just one day off from the game, everything seems so simple when I come back.
Bad plays become obvious in retrospect:
What was I doing 3-betting A4 from the big blind, even against an aggressive button stealer? Why was I squeezing so much? When did I decide playing Ace-rag in position wasn't that bad?
Many of these errors are a result of attempts to loosen up my game, defend my blinds more and become more LAGgy. Most of them didn't directly result in large monetary losses.
But they did add up. More than that, they distracted me and put me on tilt. Which blows, because the best solution to tilt is to stop playing, and that's hard to do when I'm stuck.
One hand at a time.
Showing posts with label tilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tilt. Show all posts
Friday, June 12, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Fog of War
Tommy Angelo calls it the Fog: the lack of clarity that infringes on good decision-making in the heat of battle.
The way to break through the Fog is through practice and repetition. If you know how to make the right move and anticipate your opponents' actions well, pretty soon it won't be any different to play your best in real time.
The Fog is most difficult to fight through when the pressure is on: when stacks are on the line, you're running bad, you're playing higher stakes, you're out of position, you're playing a marginal hand, the clock is ticking, or you're going with a sick read.
The best play is the play you would make if you had all the time in the world to review the hand, if you could post on forums, if you could calculate the equities and figure out how best to manipulate your opponent's range. By doing this kind of work away from the table, it's more likely the correct move will be made when it counts.
DogIsHead writes that you only really have control of three key decisions when you decide to play: game selection, state of mind and length of session. He says that your gametime strategic moves don't really constitute decisions because you should already know how you'll react before you even sit down:
Remember to make the best decision possible. Be aware of the Fog and clear it. Anticipate possible outcomes and execute a plan just as it was constructed ahead of time.
The way to break through the Fog is through practice and repetition. If you know how to make the right move and anticipate your opponents' actions well, pretty soon it won't be any different to play your best in real time.
The Fog is most difficult to fight through when the pressure is on: when stacks are on the line, you're running bad, you're playing higher stakes, you're out of position, you're playing a marginal hand, the clock is ticking, or you're going with a sick read.
The best play is the play you would make if you had all the time in the world to review the hand, if you could post on forums, if you could calculate the equities and figure out how best to manipulate your opponent's range. By doing this kind of work away from the table, it's more likely the correct move will be made when it counts.
DogIsHead writes that you only really have control of three key decisions when you decide to play: game selection, state of mind and length of session. He says that your gametime strategic moves don't really constitute decisions because you should already know how you'll react before you even sit down:
Perhaps the Fog falls under "state of mind," but it's not something DogIsHead mentions in his extensive post.
It’s important to realize that at any moment you’re playing, the set of all strategies that you’d use in response to a any situation is already embedded in your brain – in a way, you don’t have control over that. That is, you can’t suddenly “decide” to use a strategy that you don’t know is a good strategy, or “decide” to not make a mistake in a spot where you’re already predisposed to make a mistake. So, for example, if you tend to call too many 3-bets with weak hands, in that moment you have no control over this leak of yours; it’s a part of your average EV in that moment. Over time you can change these predispositions and make your game slowly stronger as you gain more and more good habits and break bad ones, and your EV per hand will slowly increase over time. But in any moment, the factors over which you exert genuine control as a poker player are actually surprisingly small.
Remember to make the best decision possible. Be aware of the Fog and clear it. Anticipate possible outcomes and execute a plan just as it was constructed ahead of time.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Calling Shenanigans
So-called poker experts do a great job of tilting me when they spread misinformation. I'm here to call them out.
1. Deuce Plays, Episode 5:
If you start calling or folding AK preflop out of position, you're probably losing money against most opponents. You should fold AK against a range of AA and KK, but realistically, even most nits are shoving and calling shoves with QQ and AK too.
As an aside, I have to give Nolan credit for another point he made about six minutes later into the podcast. He challenged anyone to show him that they're making money by playing 66-22 from early position in a full ring game over a large sample. I filtered my stats and found that he's right: in my case, I'm a slight loser in that situation.
2. Two Plus Two Publishing: Mason Malmuth rips Tommy Angelo's book, "Elements of Poker," in the most recent Two Plus Two Magazine. Then he locks a thread in the Two Plus Two forums ending discussion of his critique. Hard-Boiled Poker covered it Wednesday.
First of all, I loved reading "Elements of Poker." It gave new, refreshing insight into the game from a perspective that Two Plus Two's books fail to offer. The book may not be for everyone, but the job of a critic is to evaluate a work on its merits. Just because a poker book isn't grounded in statistics doesn't mean it has little value.
Secondly, I got more out of "Elements of Poker" than any Two Plus Two book I've read in recent memory. Honestly, Two Plus Two's offerings have mostly sucked over the last couple of years. "Harrington on Cash Games," "Heads-up No-limit Hold'em" and "Professional No-limit Hold'em" all fell far short of expectations and didn't do much to improve my game.
On top of those subpar offerings, Two Plus Two is coming out with Harrington books on shorthanded games. Harrington should stick to tournaments because his cash advice is piss poor. Applying it to today's 6-max online games would be a disaster.
Finally, Malmuth's thread lock seems to show a lack of openness toward other opinions.
3. Pope Ciaffone has a problem with the advice that "You've got to give action to get action":
1. Deuce Plays, Episode 5:
"If you do have Ace-King, four betting I don't think is going to show a profit, because it's very unlikely you're going to get it in against a range of honestly, Kings or Aces, and maybe Queens, so obviously that's a horrible range to get it in against." --Sean NolanThe reality is that in today's games, many players' preflop all-in range includes AA, KK, QQ and AK from any position. You can feel safe shoving or 4-betting AK preflop against that range for 100BB.
If you start calling or folding AK preflop out of position, you're probably losing money against most opponents. You should fold AK against a range of AA and KK, but realistically, even most nits are shoving and calling shoves with QQ and AK too.
As an aside, I have to give Nolan credit for another point he made about six minutes later into the podcast. He challenged anyone to show him that they're making money by playing 66-22 from early position in a full ring game over a large sample. I filtered my stats and found that he's right: in my case, I'm a slight loser in that situation.
2. Two Plus Two Publishing: Mason Malmuth rips Tommy Angelo's book, "Elements of Poker," in the most recent Two Plus Two Magazine. Then he locks a thread in the Two Plus Two forums ending discussion of his critique. Hard-Boiled Poker covered it Wednesday.
First of all, I loved reading "Elements of Poker." It gave new, refreshing insight into the game from a perspective that Two Plus Two's books fail to offer. The book may not be for everyone, but the job of a critic is to evaluate a work on its merits. Just because a poker book isn't grounded in statistics doesn't mean it has little value.
Secondly, I got more out of "Elements of Poker" than any Two Plus Two book I've read in recent memory. Honestly, Two Plus Two's offerings have mostly sucked over the last couple of years. "Harrington on Cash Games," "Heads-up No-limit Hold'em" and "Professional No-limit Hold'em" all fell far short of expectations and didn't do much to improve my game.
On top of those subpar offerings, Two Plus Two is coming out with Harrington books on shorthanded games. Harrington should stick to tournaments because his cash advice is piss poor. Applying it to today's 6-max online games would be a disaster.
Finally, Malmuth's thread lock seems to show a lack of openness toward other opinions.
3. Pope Ciaffone has a problem with the advice that "You've got to give action to get action":
"Now let's look at what many of the players are actually doing who use the expression, 'You have to give action to get action.' They raise up front with the 9Ciaffone doesn't seem to understand what the phrase means. It's not that difficult. What it means is that if you play like a nit, no one will ever pay you off when you do hit a hand. His examples don't reflect that concept at all.7
, then bet the flop into four callers when it comes A-J-3. They call a raise out of the small blind when holding the J
8
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Plotting Vengeance
My reign as Pineapple Maze Champion has come to a quick end.
When Kuro and I visited the pineapple maze at Dole Plantation yesterday, we saw that some dude named Jason Bernard had taken over first place, bumping me down to second. He completed the maze in 10 minutes; my previous record set less than a month ago had been 12 minutes.
This aggression will not stand.
I'll be back at the pineapple maze to regain my throne. It may take several tries, but I will fight hard to set a new record with a single-digit time.
Look out, Jason Bernard.
---
During Kuro's Memorial Day visit, I was reminded of a few pieces of classic poker advice he's given me over the years:
You don't need cards: I have this text message saved on my phone, nearly three years after it was sent. It reminds me to try to play the players more than the cards.
Don't push it: There's no reason to play too often or overplay hands.
Cally cally don't fly in Vegas: Calling down is seldom the best line to take in a hand.
Was it ever in doubt?: Of course I win, fish.
---
Sometimes I feel like a dense idiot for playing poker when I know I can't bring my best game.
I woke up on Memorial Day imagining all the vacationing drunkards sitting down at the online tables. I thought money would materialize in my lap, even though I was still half asleep and cranky.
How many times do I have to learn that it's better to not play at all than to play poorly? I incorrectly tell myself I can fight through it, but I find that it's difficult to elevate my play to its top form by willpower alone.
Of course I lost money (although there were a couple of coolers). I would have needed a suckout to come out ahead in my tired state.
I'd like to think I'm catching on to this trend of bad results flowing from playing while sleepy, but it's hard to remember not to play when all I want to do is play.
When Kuro and I visited the pineapple maze at Dole Plantation yesterday, we saw that some dude named Jason Bernard had taken over first place, bumping me down to second. He completed the maze in 10 minutes; my previous record set less than a month ago had been 12 minutes.
This aggression will not stand.
I'll be back at the pineapple maze to regain my throne. It may take several tries, but I will fight hard to set a new record with a single-digit time.
Look out, Jason Bernard.
---
During Kuro's Memorial Day visit, I was reminded of a few pieces of classic poker advice he's given me over the years:
You don't need cards: I have this text message saved on my phone, nearly three years after it was sent. It reminds me to try to play the players more than the cards.
Don't push it: There's no reason to play too often or overplay hands.
Cally cally don't fly in Vegas: Calling down is seldom the best line to take in a hand.
Was it ever in doubt?: Of course I win, fish.
---
Sometimes I feel like a dense idiot for playing poker when I know I can't bring my best game.
I woke up on Memorial Day imagining all the vacationing drunkards sitting down at the online tables. I thought money would materialize in my lap, even though I was still half asleep and cranky.
How many times do I have to learn that it's better to not play at all than to play poorly? I incorrectly tell myself I can fight through it, but I find that it's difficult to elevate my play to its top form by willpower alone.
Of course I lost money (although there were a couple of coolers). I would have needed a suckout to come out ahead in my tired state.
I'd like to think I'm catching on to this trend of bad results flowing from playing while sleepy, but it's hard to remember not to play when all I want to do is play.
Monday, April 07, 2008
The strength of folding
I was drinking in a bar this weekend when one of my friends brought up that I play poker. Another guy at the table said he always loses because he's an optimist who believes his hand just has to be the best. So he almost always goes to showdown and loses his stack.
I told him something I try to tell myself:
You always want to play strongly in poker, and you never want to be weak. When your opponent has the better hand, is it stronger to pay him off or to fold? Many times the strongest play is to know when you're beat.
When I'm on any degree of tilt, the most immediate difference in my game that I see is a tendency to call potential bluffs more often. It's one of my biggest leaks. I have a hard time folding when I have a sense that I have the worst hand but my opponent's actions don't make sense. In these situations, my tendency is to call a player who could only have a ridiculous hand to beat mine rather than letting my hand go.
There's no easy fix for this flaw except to play patiently and be constantly aware of my actions. Quit spewing chips. Just fold. Save money and move on. Let the small pots go.
Here are three AA hands from tonight's play. I had to fold them, and I think I was right to do so. Anyone feel differently? Assume 100 BB stacks at a 5/10 NL game.
Hand 1:
Preflop:
Hero raises UTG to $30. Everyone folds except for a loose SB (75/22/.94).
Flop:
Kd 9h 4s
SB checks.
Hero bets $55.
SB calls
Turn:
8d
SB checks
Hero bets $165 into $180 pot.
SB check-raises to $330
Hero folds.
Hand No. 2:
Preflop:
UTG limp (30/6/.5)
CO limp
Button limp
Hero raises to $80 from SB
UTG call
CO call
Button fold
Flop:
5c 3h 9s
Hero bets $200
UTG calls
CO folds
Turn:
4h
Hero checks.
UTG is all in for $734 into $660 pot.
Hero folds.
Hand No. 3:
Preflop:
Hero raises to $30 from MP
BB calls (same player as in Hand No. 2, but about an hour has passed)
Flop:
Ts 9h 8s
BB checks
Hero bets $50 into $65
BB calls
Turn:
9s (Neither of my Aces is a spade)
BB bets $90 into $165
Hero folds.
Those sucked. But calling or raising may well have sucked more.
I told him something I try to tell myself:
You always want to play strongly in poker, and you never want to be weak. When your opponent has the better hand, is it stronger to pay him off or to fold? Many times the strongest play is to know when you're beat.
When I'm on any degree of tilt, the most immediate difference in my game that I see is a tendency to call potential bluffs more often. It's one of my biggest leaks. I have a hard time folding when I have a sense that I have the worst hand but my opponent's actions don't make sense. In these situations, my tendency is to call a player who could only have a ridiculous hand to beat mine rather than letting my hand go.
There's no easy fix for this flaw except to play patiently and be constantly aware of my actions. Quit spewing chips. Just fold. Save money and move on. Let the small pots go.
Here are three AA hands from tonight's play. I had to fold them, and I think I was right to do so. Anyone feel differently? Assume 100 BB stacks at a 5/10 NL game.
Hand 1:
Preflop:
Hero raises UTG to $30. Everyone folds except for a loose SB (75/22/.94).
Flop:
Kd 9h 4s
SB checks.
Hero bets $55.
SB calls
Turn:
8d
SB checks
Hero bets $165 into $180 pot.
SB check-raises to $330
Hero folds.
Hand No. 2:
Preflop:
UTG limp (30/6/.5)
CO limp
Button limp
Hero raises to $80 from SB
UTG call
CO call
Button fold
Flop:
5c 3h 9s
Hero bets $200
UTG calls
CO folds
Turn:
4h
Hero checks.
UTG is all in for $734 into $660 pot.
Hero folds.
Hand No. 3:
Preflop:
Hero raises to $30 from MP
BB calls (same player as in Hand No. 2, but about an hour has passed)
Flop:
Ts 9h 8s
BB checks
Hero bets $50 into $65
BB calls
Turn:
9s (Neither of my Aces is a spade)
BB bets $90 into $165
Hero folds.
Those sucked. But calling or raising may well have sucked more.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Universal Truths
Dabbling in 10/20 is great because it seems easier to see how mistakes translate directly into dollars.
Nothing is terribly different about 10/20 except for that the players are generally more aggressive, and there are times when I'll inadvertently end up at a table full of winning players. That's never a good thing.
So I wanted to list some simple observations that I'll try to keep in mind during these games:
_ Every type of player can be responded to. Against players who steal often, I must increase my resteal frequency. Against a maniac, I have to reduce my calling, raising and showdown standards.
_ When I see someone in the big blind who folds his blind more than 85 percent of the time, it's profitable to steal raise from the button every time.
_ If I tell myself I can try to play tight to reduce risks, then I should know I'm already on tilt and stop playing.
_ At a tight table, I have to play looser, both to generate action and steal the blinds. At a loose table, I need to play my cards very literally.
_ Calling down on three streets from out of position is seldom a strong play.
_ At a table full of winning players, it's difficult to make money. Game selection is crucial.
_ Poker is a game of many decisions. I should not worry so much about my opponents' decisions and instead concentrate on minimizing my own mistakes.
_ It takes a winning attitude to be a winner. I need to do better about staying away when I'm not feeling great or distracted.
_ I play better when drinking a Coke.
_ My winrate goes down when I open up too many tables.
Nothing is terribly different about 10/20 except for that the players are generally more aggressive, and there are times when I'll inadvertently end up at a table full of winning players. That's never a good thing.
So I wanted to list some simple observations that I'll try to keep in mind during these games:
_ Every type of player can be responded to. Against players who steal often, I must increase my resteal frequency. Against a maniac, I have to reduce my calling, raising and showdown standards.
_ When I see someone in the big blind who folds his blind more than 85 percent of the time, it's profitable to steal raise from the button every time.
_ If I tell myself I can try to play tight to reduce risks, then I should know I'm already on tilt and stop playing.
_ At a tight table, I have to play looser, both to generate action and steal the blinds. At a loose table, I need to play my cards very literally.
_ Calling down on three streets from out of position is seldom a strong play.
_ At a table full of winning players, it's difficult to make money. Game selection is crucial.
_ Poker is a game of many decisions. I should not worry so much about my opponents' decisions and instead concentrate on minimizing my own mistakes.
_ It takes a winning attitude to be a winner. I need to do better about staying away when I'm not feeling great or distracted.
_ I play better when drinking a Coke.
_ My winrate goes down when I open up too many tables.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Results Oriented
"Parcells believed that even in the NFL a lot of players were more concerned with seeming to want to win that with actually winning, and that many of them did not know the difference."
--"The Blind Side," by Michael Lewis
I set a goal, and I was going to stick to it.
I wanted to rebuild my Full Tilt bankroll from $3,000 to $10,000 before moving up in stakes on other sites where I keep most of my roll. There were several reasons for this challenge: I wanted to rejuvenate my Full Tilt account without making a deposit, experiment with new tactics at 2/4 and 3/6, and prove to myself that I could set a goal and reach it.
I planned to get there in three weeks.
I did well at first, slowly building up on Full Tilt until I got to $8,500. There was nothing spectacular about this run -- just steadily building up toward where I wanted to be. But then things started to go wrong.
I found the juiciest 50/100 shorthanded limit game I had ever seen, with a table average VP$IP of about 48 and a seat open next to a player who was seeing nearly every flop. I felt my overall bankroll could support sitting at this table, so I decided to take a shot.
First I put in a lot of bets with an underboat vs. an overboat. Then QQ got cracked. Then KK fell. Within a few minutes, I was down $4,500. Oh well, I told myself. I knew the risk going in.
When I woke up the next morning, I was determined to push hard toward my goal. Back at 2/4, I opened up my game with lots of 4-bets, steal attempts and efforts to push every little small edge I could perceive. I spewed chips at an alarming rate.
I tried to be the kind of loose-aggressive player who would get paid off because my holdings would be so unpredictable. Instead, I seemed to only get action when I didn't want it.
Down to about $1,500, I dug in. For the first time, I was worried about dropping to dangerously low levels. I played tight -- too tight. I played weak. In one hand against cmitch, I may have been able to take it down with a bet or check-raise on the turn when I made trips. Instead, I meekly called a bet and then paid off on the river when his flush got there.
I dropped down to .50/1 to build back up again. I told myself I could be like Chris Ferguson, and slowly get back to where I wanted to be one small step at a time.
After only two days of play, I lost patience. How could I waste this time playing .50/1 when I could be winning at 5/10 -- or even having a go at 10/20? What was I doing grinding out $2 and $4 pots when my yearly average is so much higher?
I was fully aware that these thoughts would only get me into trouble. The only two options were to stick with my plan for weeks or months of more frustration, or to take one more chance. I played a few topsy-turvy 2/4 heads-up matches, and my roll fell below $200 by the time I was through.
When I dropped this low, I realized what a fish I had been. But it also enabled me to accept failure. I try to treat poker like an investment. It was time to cut my losses.
I adopted a better plan: abandon my goal, transfer money to my Full Tilt account rather than try to rebuild on a short roll, play the limits I wanted to play and quit steaming over a useless challenge.
From the start, this effort was focused on trying to reach a number rather than improving my game. It had little to do with getting better or making smarter decisions.
I like to learn from my mistakes:
1) I never want to play on a site when I'm underrolled. It's too difficult to play my best game when I'm scared to take chances.
2) I should remember that pushing too hard is often counterproductive. I thought I had learned long ago that I can only play my best game for about 2 hours at a time, and the probability of losing money greatly increases when I try to extend sessions beyond that.
3) It's OK to experiment with new strategies and take shots, but I should only try one at a time.
I'm a lucky bastard. As soon as I abandoned my quest, I started winning again. I'm back to playing a style I'm comfortable with -- my style -- and I've won $3,500 in the last three hours at the tables. That's a rate I can be happy with.
--"The Blind Side," by Michael Lewis
I set a goal, and I was going to stick to it.
I wanted to rebuild my Full Tilt bankroll from $3,000 to $10,000 before moving up in stakes on other sites where I keep most of my roll. There were several reasons for this challenge: I wanted to rejuvenate my Full Tilt account without making a deposit, experiment with new tactics at 2/4 and 3/6, and prove to myself that I could set a goal and reach it.
I planned to get there in three weeks.
I did well at first, slowly building up on Full Tilt until I got to $8,500. There was nothing spectacular about this run -- just steadily building up toward where I wanted to be. But then things started to go wrong.
I found the juiciest 50/100 shorthanded limit game I had ever seen, with a table average VP$IP of about 48 and a seat open next to a player who was seeing nearly every flop. I felt my overall bankroll could support sitting at this table, so I decided to take a shot.
First I put in a lot of bets with an underboat vs. an overboat. Then QQ got cracked. Then KK fell. Within a few minutes, I was down $4,500. Oh well, I told myself. I knew the risk going in.
When I woke up the next morning, I was determined to push hard toward my goal. Back at 2/4, I opened up my game with lots of 4-bets, steal attempts and efforts to push every little small edge I could perceive. I spewed chips at an alarming rate.
I tried to be the kind of loose-aggressive player who would get paid off because my holdings would be so unpredictable. Instead, I seemed to only get action when I didn't want it.
Down to about $1,500, I dug in. For the first time, I was worried about dropping to dangerously low levels. I played tight -- too tight. I played weak. In one hand against cmitch, I may have been able to take it down with a bet or check-raise on the turn when I made trips. Instead, I meekly called a bet and then paid off on the river when his flush got there.
I dropped down to .50/1 to build back up again. I told myself I could be like Chris Ferguson, and slowly get back to where I wanted to be one small step at a time.
After only two days of play, I lost patience. How could I waste this time playing .50/1 when I could be winning at 5/10 -- or even having a go at 10/20? What was I doing grinding out $2 and $4 pots when my yearly average is so much higher?
I was fully aware that these thoughts would only get me into trouble. The only two options were to stick with my plan for weeks or months of more frustration, or to take one more chance. I played a few topsy-turvy 2/4 heads-up matches, and my roll fell below $200 by the time I was through.
When I dropped this low, I realized what a fish I had been. But it also enabled me to accept failure. I try to treat poker like an investment. It was time to cut my losses.
I adopted a better plan: abandon my goal, transfer money to my Full Tilt account rather than try to rebuild on a short roll, play the limits I wanted to play and quit steaming over a useless challenge.
From the start, this effort was focused on trying to reach a number rather than improving my game. It had little to do with getting better or making smarter decisions.
I like to learn from my mistakes:
1) I never want to play on a site when I'm underrolled. It's too difficult to play my best game when I'm scared to take chances.
2) I should remember that pushing too hard is often counterproductive. I thought I had learned long ago that I can only play my best game for about 2 hours at a time, and the probability of losing money greatly increases when I try to extend sessions beyond that.
3) It's OK to experiment with new strategies and take shots, but I should only try one at a time.
I'm a lucky bastard. As soon as I abandoned my quest, I started winning again. I'm back to playing a style I'm comfortable with -- my style -- and I've won $3,500 in the last three hours at the tables. That's a rate I can be happy with.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Break over
Well, that time off from poker felt good. I hadn't played in four days, which isn't that long, but it was enough time for me to get my head on straight and feel refreshed when I came back to the tables tonight, where I won nearly two buy-ins.
I thought a lot about what went wrong in the last few weeks. The primary problem was that I got bad cards and lost a lot of pots in which I was favored. But there several issues with my game that don't show up in hand histories or PokerTracker stats.
This bad run started with my $22,000 income tax bill, created and paid for almost entirely from my bankroll. Then I started pressing way too hard as I put in long sessions and woke up early in the morning to put in more hours. During that time, I was still winning, but all that play wore on me.
From there, I ran into Perfect Donkey and then suffered a ton of beats. I started every session with a good attitude, but it was never long before I was yelling at the computer screen over some horrible suckout.
Everyone has a breaking point, and I reached mine last Sunday, when I played heads-up games and called $500 turn bets with nothing but a flush draw and river all-ins with dominated top pair hands like QT. It was ugly. If there's any silver lining, it was that I could no longer blame anyone buy myself for the losses.
A few weeks ago, I complained to a photographer friend of mine about the downturn. He doesn't know much about poker, but he loves to hear about it, and I like talking about it.
"What are you learning from these losses?" he asked.
"Nothing," I told him, "Except how to deal with them."
That wasn't the right answer. I should have been learning when to quit.
With any luck, I'll now go on an insanely good run like I did the last time I took a few days off.
I thought a lot about what went wrong in the last few weeks. The primary problem was that I got bad cards and lost a lot of pots in which I was favored. But there several issues with my game that don't show up in hand histories or PokerTracker stats.
This bad run started with my $22,000 income tax bill, created and paid for almost entirely from my bankroll. Then I started pressing way too hard as I put in long sessions and woke up early in the morning to put in more hours. During that time, I was still winning, but all that play wore on me.
From there, I ran into Perfect Donkey and then suffered a ton of beats. I started every session with a good attitude, but it was never long before I was yelling at the computer screen over some horrible suckout.
Everyone has a breaking point, and I reached mine last Sunday, when I played heads-up games and called $500 turn bets with nothing but a flush draw and river all-ins with dominated top pair hands like QT. It was ugly. If there's any silver lining, it was that I could no longer blame anyone buy myself for the losses.
A few weeks ago, I complained to a photographer friend of mine about the downturn. He doesn't know much about poker, but he loves to hear about it, and I like talking about it.
"What are you learning from these losses?" he asked.
"Nothing," I told him, "Except how to deal with them."
That wasn't the right answer. I should have been learning when to quit.
With any luck, I'll now go on an insanely good run like I did the last time I took a few days off.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Break Time
The last thing I want to do when running bad is take a break.
But it's the right thing to do. Even though I still feel like I'm playing well, I'm too easily tilted right now.
I like to think I've gotten better at handling downswings, but it's hard to lose 20 5/10 buyins over six weeks, most of them due to bad beats that I won't recount here. Before this, I had never lost more than 10 buy-ins in a row in no limit play.
Once again, I'm thankful for the cushion of my bankroll.
Bleh. Stupid poker.
But it's the right thing to do. Even though I still feel like I'm playing well, I'm too easily tilted right now.
I like to think I've gotten better at handling downswings, but it's hard to lose 20 5/10 buyins over six weeks, most of them due to bad beats that I won't recount here. Before this, I had never lost more than 10 buy-ins in a row in no limit play.
Once again, I'm thankful for the cushion of my bankroll.
Bleh. Stupid poker.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
March Review
Ug, March sucked poker-wise. It was my first down month since December 2005, with most of those losses coming in the last week when I dropped more than $7,000 while chasing a $300 bonus on Full Tilt.
I feel like such an idiot. I fully recovered from a downswing at the beginning of the month, but then I suffered some bad beats. Then I made some stupid calls and failed big bluffs, and poof!, there go my profits. Overall, I finished the month down about $2,000, which isn't too bad.
My play yesterday shows why I'm upset with myself. I had been thinking earlier about the merits of cold calling with AK from the big blind and then check-raising when you hit. Of course, I fell for that exact play when I held Ace-rag on an Ace-high flop. For some reason, I couldn't find the fold button. Then on another hand, I thought I had flopped trip 2s off K2 from the big blind. Unfortunately, I had misread my hand and I actually had K6.
Obviously, I'm not thinking straight. These are rookie mistakes.
The reasons for this are lack of confidence, poor analytical reasoning, impatience, fancy play syndrome and the wearing down effect of the grind. In addition, the large dollar amounts of the 10/20 NL games got to me, even though I should know better. Everything should be measured in buy-ins and big bets, not dollar figures.
I usually can accept losses that happen due to bad luck, but I can't stand it when it's my fault for shitty play!
Fortunately, it's a new month. Enough of this whining and irrational blather. None of this crap should affect my game. If it continues to, I simply won't play. Carry on; nothing to see here.
I feel like such an idiot. I fully recovered from a downswing at the beginning of the month, but then I suffered some bad beats. Then I made some stupid calls and failed big bluffs, and poof!, there go my profits. Overall, I finished the month down about $2,000, which isn't too bad.
My play yesterday shows why I'm upset with myself. I had been thinking earlier about the merits of cold calling with AK from the big blind and then check-raising when you hit. Of course, I fell for that exact play when I held Ace-rag on an Ace-high flop. For some reason, I couldn't find the fold button. Then on another hand, I thought I had flopped trip 2s off K2 from the big blind. Unfortunately, I had misread my hand and I actually had K6.
Obviously, I'm not thinking straight. These are rookie mistakes.
The reasons for this are lack of confidence, poor analytical reasoning, impatience, fancy play syndrome and the wearing down effect of the grind. In addition, the large dollar amounts of the 10/20 NL games got to me, even though I should know better. Everything should be measured in buy-ins and big bets, not dollar figures.
I usually can accept losses that happen due to bad luck, but I can't stand it when it's my fault for shitty play!
Fortunately, it's a new month. Enough of this whining and irrational blather. None of this crap should affect my game. If it continues to, I simply won't play. Carry on; nothing to see here.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Pregame
I almost never post before sitting down at the tables for the evening, but perhaps it will put me in the right mindset before I play.
I played pretty damn poorly last night and went on tilt. Don't laugh too hard about the following hand. It was a terrible play:
Dealt to Hero 2h, 2s
Hero raises $35
CO calls $35
Villain/button raises to $180
Hero calls $145
CO folds.
*** Dealing Flop *** 5c, 3s, 9c
Hero checks.
Villain bets $250
Hero is all-In.
Villain calls $673.21
*** Dealing Turn *** Qc
*** Dealing River *** Jh
Villain shows Ac, Ah a pair of Aces.
Villain wins $2254.42 from the main pot with a pair of Aces.
That's right -- I check-raised all-in with a pocket pair of 2s that missed. At the time, I was thinking there was a good chance my opponent had a hand like AK or AQ. Unfortunately, I was wrong and got stacked for $1,000 when I should have just folded the flop. If there's any silver lining to this hand, it's that I realized how stupid it is to try to represent a set by check-raising all in on the flop. No one is going to believe me, especially when they hold AA!
Let us never speak of that hand again.
So tonight, I'm doing things right. I'm watching a CardRunners video before I play. I'm making sure I'll only play in fishy games. Most of all, I'll tighten up a little until I get ahead.
One problem I've been having recently is dealing with aggressive three-betters out of the blinds. I've been losing every time they have a good hand. Even when they don't have a good hand, they've been hitting the flop. There's an easy solution to this problem. I can just fold preflop with some of my more marginal hands that may well be dominated, or I could reraise all in against the true maniacs.
Another difficulty is that when I try to resteal/squeeze play from the blinds, I seem to get called and lose. Out of position squeeze plays don't seem to be +EV recently against players who know I have an aggressive image. To fix this problem, I'll focus even more heavily on playing in position.
In general, my concentration has been spotty over the last couple of weeks, and it has shown in my results. I always plan on playing my best game when I start a session, but often halfway in I can tell that I'm not at my best. Sometimes I have the discipline to stop right then, but most of the time I'll wait until I've reached the two-hour mark before quitting. I'm such a dumbass.
But I keep telling myself that all that crap is in the past. It has no relevance to how I play tonight, except as a motivational tool.
One of the reasons for my big improvement last fall was that I realized I could win a ton more money if I could eliminate idiotic mistakes from my game. Those errors are starting to creep back in, and I want to choke them off right here and now.
Edit: I played OK and lost a small amount. Hey, you can't make cards come.
I played pretty damn poorly last night and went on tilt. Don't laugh too hard about the following hand. It was a terrible play:
Dealt to Hero 2h, 2s
Hero raises $35
CO calls $35
Villain/button raises to $180
Hero calls $145
CO folds.
*** Dealing Flop *** 5c, 3s, 9c
Hero checks.
Villain bets $250
Hero is all-In.
Villain calls $673.21
*** Dealing Turn *** Qc
*** Dealing River *** Jh
Villain shows Ac, Ah a pair of Aces.
Villain wins $2254.42 from the main pot with a pair of Aces.
That's right -- I check-raised all-in with a pocket pair of 2s that missed. At the time, I was thinking there was a good chance my opponent had a hand like AK or AQ. Unfortunately, I was wrong and got stacked for $1,000 when I should have just folded the flop. If there's any silver lining to this hand, it's that I realized how stupid it is to try to represent a set by check-raising all in on the flop. No one is going to believe me, especially when they hold AA!
Let us never speak of that hand again.
So tonight, I'm doing things right. I'm watching a CardRunners video before I play. I'm making sure I'll only play in fishy games. Most of all, I'll tighten up a little until I get ahead.
One problem I've been having recently is dealing with aggressive three-betters out of the blinds. I've been losing every time they have a good hand. Even when they don't have a good hand, they've been hitting the flop. There's an easy solution to this problem. I can just fold preflop with some of my more marginal hands that may well be dominated, or I could reraise all in against the true maniacs.
Another difficulty is that when I try to resteal/squeeze play from the blinds, I seem to get called and lose. Out of position squeeze plays don't seem to be +EV recently against players who know I have an aggressive image. To fix this problem, I'll focus even more heavily on playing in position.
In general, my concentration has been spotty over the last couple of weeks, and it has shown in my results. I always plan on playing my best game when I start a session, but often halfway in I can tell that I'm not at my best. Sometimes I have the discipline to stop right then, but most of the time I'll wait until I've reached the two-hour mark before quitting. I'm such a dumbass.
But I keep telling myself that all that crap is in the past. It has no relevance to how I play tonight, except as a motivational tool.
One of the reasons for my big improvement last fall was that I realized I could win a ton more money if I could eliminate idiotic mistakes from my game. Those errors are starting to creep back in, and I want to choke them off right here and now.
Edit: I played OK and lost a small amount. Hey, you can't make cards come.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Chasing
My head hit the pillow around 1 a.m. early Sunday morning. Finally, sweet oblivious rest.
Earlier, I had woken up optimistic about a productive day of poker, cleaning, shopping, biking, caffeine, alcohol and warm January sun. I did it right -- I drank some yerba mate, cleaned up the apartment in the morning and got ready to run some errands.
My week had been tiring and frustrating. My poker play was lackluster, Neteller's withdrawal from the U.S. market got me down, I couldn't get a date with this girl I liked and my bike had been stolen. Fortunately, I immediately bought a new bike, and that would be my means of transportation for the summer-like Honolulu Saturday.
After buying a bike seat lock, grabbing fast food for lunch, spilling my drink all over the place and going grocery shopping, I was prepared to log in and win some money. I decided to sit at a couple of 10/20 NL tables. After all, the games won't stay this good for long, I have the bankroll and I was feeling good.
First on Full Tilt, while I was scoping out the games, I found a nice and loose 5/10 NL game. It didn't take long for me to lose my first buy-in. Bad beat story short, I flopped a set of 9s and then got busted by a player on the button who turned a straight off 53s. Wunderbar.
Then I clocked into PokerStars and sat at a 10/20 game. This time, I flopped a set of 3s, bet it out on the flop and turn and lost to a turned overboat. Brilliant. I tilted off the remaining $250 in my stack and signed out.
How embarrassing! That hand reduced my PokerStars balance to $170 with no way to redeposit. I was down $3,000 that I had lost in two hands and a few minutes. The rest of my bankroll is tied up in other sites, but I hate it that my Stars account shrunk to such low levels.
After those beats, I figured I was done with poker for the day. It would be foolish to risk further damage by chasing losses. Not playing was the most +EV decision. So I biked to the mall, bought some new work shoes on sale, watched TV, cooked my crazy pasta and then biked to a bar in China Town to get some drinks.
Unfortunately, I had forgotten to bring my new, bulky bike lock with me. I was used to my lock being attached to my old bike, but I haven't figured out how to hook up the new one. I had no choice but to ride my bike back home. By the time I got back, I decided to forget about the whole bike-riding idea and just drive instead. I'd pay for parking. Whatever.
A word about my crazy pasta: it's delicious, but there's no way I could talk to women after eating it. I mixed in bow tie pasta, shredded garlic, garlic pepper, onions, green peppers, spicy sriracha sauce, mushrooms, mozzarella cheese and olive oil. This stuff is very strong, and it will leave you with horrible breath no matter how much mouthwash you use. I love it.
I had a couple of drinks, tried not to offend anyone with my dragon breath and got home safely. I turned out the lights and flopped down on my mattress, ready for the day to be over.
But then, as I was lying there face-down, I realized I wasn't ready for the day to be over. I was wide awake! And not only was I alert, I was thinking clearly and felt motivated. "Fuck this," I thought. "I'm going to log on to Bodog right now and get my money back!"
So that's what I did.
Over the next hour and a half, I found some nice and terrible players populating all the 10/20 games. I doubled up once when I got all in on a 884 flop with KK vs. TT. A few hands later, I lost most of a buyin with a flopped set of 7s vs. a turned set of Kings.
Eventually, I got up to a little over $1,500, and I could almost taste it. One more double up now and I'd have made up for my earlier losses. But if I lost $2,000 at this point, I'd be worse off than when I started.
I was dealt AQs and called a late position raise from the small blind. The flop came down AQ2. Woot! I had top two pair! There was only one problem -- all three of those cards were hearts, and I only held diamonds.
I checked. My opponent bet $70 into the $140 pot, and I check-raised him to $400. He called. The turn brought a meaningless 7 of spades.
I made my decision. I was going for it -- All-in for $1,526. My victim thought for a second and then called with AJ, and he had the Jack of hearts. I held my breath for the river, which was a beautiful 5 of diamonds. He missed his flush, and I had doubled through!
I immediately logged off, self-satisfied with my $600 profit for the day. That's a lot better than a $3K loss.
This time, when I got into bed and pulled up the blanket, I think I was out within five minutes. Maybe my crazy pasta is good luck.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Lessons are expensive
I haven't posted in a few days, not for lack of things to write about, but more because I had been winning. Winning is great and all, but it makes for rather bland writing.
Win, win, win. I love consistently coming out on top, and I feel like I'm playing pretty damn well. But there's no conflict, no struggle, no pain in it. Tilt stories and Waffle-esque diatribes are so much more fun!
Fortunately for you, dear reader, I got smacked. Pretty hard. Ouch.
Christmas night was my career-worst session at the tables, in which I lost more than four buy-ins in about 800 hands, mostly against HORRIBLE players. Argh! They were soooo bad, and I couldn't seem to wrestle any money away from them.
I kept picturing them, drunk on egg nog and pissed off at their families in the late-night post-Christmas hours, pissing away their money to whoever applied the most pressure against their top pair, top kicker hand. I saw them sitting at their computers, dazed, trying to keep their eyes open as they sought one more pot to get even for the holiday. Or maybe some of them were rich kids, flush with new Christmas money that they were ready to blow off at the tables.
There was a lot of cash flying around, but not much of it came my way.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: three bad beats, two lost coin-flips and a tilt all-in bet against the nuts in a pear tree.
I knew a day like this had to come eventually. My fear is that my worries may have turned into a self-fulfilling prophesy. It goes something like this:
I win a lot at the virtual tables, and each successive win feels like less of a thrill than the one before. Eventually, I lose focus and drive because the pleasure of winning is diminished as the mental bar is raised for my average per-session expectation. Lacking emotions of satisfaction from poker, I subconsciously try to lose so that I can feel good when I win again.
These ideas somewhat coincide with theories that gamblers subconsciously want to lose to punish themselves, or that "gamblers want to lose all their money so they can reach a state of despair which, at the root of it all, was provoked by a past action that the gambler has not resolved."
Is it possible that I sabotaged myself at the tables last night? That after drinking my share of beers on Christmas night, I felt guilty on some level about my repeated winnings and played a style that favored all-in bets over folds and calls over reasonably priced information bets?
Of course it's possible. Why else would I be writing about it.
In times of doubt, the correct course is to analyze what went wrong. After I went through the hand histories in PokerTracker, I found there was only one hand where I made a clear and obvious error. I did tilt on that hand. I told myself I would take a stand with top pair and my gutshot. I blew off my stack based on my tired feelings of defiance and anger rather than careful consideration of the situation at hand.
Naturally, my passive opponent who had check-raised me had a set, and my donkitude was not rewarded with a suckout.
It was time for sleep, perhaps an hour after I should have quit.
I don't believe I'm a compulsive gambler who wants to kill himself slowly by blowing through my hard-earned winnings. I admit to mild feelings of guilt because of my recent success, and because I feel sorry for some of the fish who lose and reload, lose and reload, lose and reload until the rent money is gone.
Objectively, I know these emotions are destructive. While I hope to be able to empathize with my opponents' mind-set, I should remain vigilant that I don't become like them. The solution, as always, is focus and discipline. Sometimes I feel like a surly poker monk, resigned to a life of study and devotion.
Enough of that. I made one very bad play. It won't happen again.
I did a search of the Internet for my login name, smizmiatch, and found some hand histories from 2005 in which I got stacked. I played them terribly. Enjoy!
Dem Quads, Bitch.
I can't recommend playing two pair like this.
Win, win, win. I love consistently coming out on top, and I feel like I'm playing pretty damn well. But there's no conflict, no struggle, no pain in it. Tilt stories and Waffle-esque diatribes are so much more fun!
Fortunately for you, dear reader, I got smacked. Pretty hard. Ouch.
Christmas night was my career-worst session at the tables, in which I lost more than four buy-ins in about 800 hands, mostly against HORRIBLE players. Argh! They were soooo bad, and I couldn't seem to wrestle any money away from them.
I kept picturing them, drunk on egg nog and pissed off at their families in the late-night post-Christmas hours, pissing away their money to whoever applied the most pressure against their top pair, top kicker hand. I saw them sitting at their computers, dazed, trying to keep their eyes open as they sought one more pot to get even for the holiday. Or maybe some of them were rich kids, flush with new Christmas money that they were ready to blow off at the tables.
There was a lot of cash flying around, but not much of it came my way.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me: three bad beats, two lost coin-flips and a tilt all-in bet against the nuts in a pear tree.
I knew a day like this had to come eventually. My fear is that my worries may have turned into a self-fulfilling prophesy. It goes something like this:
I win a lot at the virtual tables, and each successive win feels like less of a thrill than the one before. Eventually, I lose focus and drive because the pleasure of winning is diminished as the mental bar is raised for my average per-session expectation. Lacking emotions of satisfaction from poker, I subconsciously try to lose so that I can feel good when I win again.
These ideas somewhat coincide with theories that gamblers subconsciously want to lose to punish themselves, or that "gamblers want to lose all their money so they can reach a state of despair which, at the root of it all, was provoked by a past action that the gambler has not resolved."
Is it possible that I sabotaged myself at the tables last night? That after drinking my share of beers on Christmas night, I felt guilty on some level about my repeated winnings and played a style that favored all-in bets over folds and calls over reasonably priced information bets?
Of course it's possible. Why else would I be writing about it.
In times of doubt, the correct course is to analyze what went wrong. After I went through the hand histories in PokerTracker, I found there was only one hand where I made a clear and obvious error. I did tilt on that hand. I told myself I would take a stand with top pair and my gutshot. I blew off my stack based on my tired feelings of defiance and anger rather than careful consideration of the situation at hand.
Naturally, my passive opponent who had check-raised me had a set, and my donkitude was not rewarded with a suckout.
It was time for sleep, perhaps an hour after I should have quit.
I don't believe I'm a compulsive gambler who wants to kill himself slowly by blowing through my hard-earned winnings. I admit to mild feelings of guilt because of my recent success, and because I feel sorry for some of the fish who lose and reload, lose and reload, lose and reload until the rent money is gone.
Objectively, I know these emotions are destructive. While I hope to be able to empathize with my opponents' mind-set, I should remain vigilant that I don't become like them. The solution, as always, is focus and discipline. Sometimes I feel like a surly poker monk, resigned to a life of study and devotion.
Enough of that. I made one very bad play. It won't happen again.
I did a search of the Internet for my login name, smizmiatch, and found some hand histories from 2005 in which I got stacked. I played them terribly. Enjoy!
Dem Quads, Bitch.
I can't recommend playing two pair like this.
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