Losing

I’ve had some recent success lately, but rather than give details and risk jinxing it and incurring the wrath of the poker gods, I’ll just reflect on some thoughts I’ve had during the last few months.

Poker can be so very counterintuitive.  We’ve all read and come to understand how the luck factor is what brings the fish back to the table.  Without it, the poker world would be like the chess world – dominated by the grand masters and relegating those recreational part-time players into also-rans with no chance at ever competing on the biggest of stages.

But it’s also that luck factor that confuses, at least on occasion, the very best of poker players.  It is extremely difficult to discern bad play from bad luck.  It takes a willingness to admit to yourself that the negative results you’ve seen have come simply from bad play.  But it takes a whole helluva lot more to realize that you’ve been playing well and have just been on the bad side of variance.

Poker humbles me.  I’m very reluctant to admit to having any skill at the game.  It’s because I know how the game can turn on you, frustrate you, and make you question your own confidence.  It’s almost like I’m constantly looking back over my shoulder, waiting for the light tap of variance to bring my confidence back down a couple of notches.

It’s been said countless times before, but losing at poker has taught me the most about myself and my play.  In the months of May through July, I had an awful time winning.  No matter what I did, I lost.  I changed games, I changed sites, I even changed underwear.  It didn’t help.  But I did succeed at one thing.  I finally accepted it.

The three-month losing streak was just a part of the game.  My main game of short-handed NL ring games probably has the highest variation associated with it than any other form of poker, tournaments notwithstanding.  It’s tough to wrap your mind around how big variance can be, but once you do, you realize that part of the normal fluctuations of poker involves long losing streaks.

You can choose to let it break you and put you on tilt, or you can accept it and move on.  It’s quite a challenge to accept it and feel confident that playing your game will reap its just rewards over time.  It is very hard indeed.  But once you do, you won’t let losing get in your way.  Especially when you’re in the midst of a long winning period you must ACCEPT losing and avoid EXPECTING to win.

Making changes to your game such that it becomes easier for you to accept losing is very important.  Simple things like playing within your bankroll come to mind.  Maintaining detailed records of your play and results can help too.  Whatever it takes to accept and understand why you lose can only help in the long run.

And I know we’re all here for the long haul.    

One Upping the Princess

"Dems quad bitches" is a great line.



But I like "Dats a straight flush donkeys" too.

I got paid off. Some, not a lot.

Vegas - Day Two

A couple of old-style Stacker 2’s and several vodka and Sobe’s is a recipe for zero sleep.  I was exhausted, but I think I woke up every 7 or 8 minutes after returning to the Palms.  Finally, at 9:00AM after eighty-four aborted attempts to sleep more than 30 minutes at a time, I showered and went down to the buffet.  I had a $1 coupon and ate a massive breakfast for about $6.  Others have mentioned that The Palms’ buffet isn’t so hot, but to me, it was more than adequate.

I had plenty of time to get to the Aladdin poker room, so I decided to walk.  The early morning Vegas weather was probably close to 65F and sunny – perfect weather to walk down Flamingo Blvd. towards the strip.  It took probably 40 minutes to get to the Aladdin; and when I finally arrived, I immediately sat down at the softest $1/$2 NL table to grace the face of the planet.

In June of this year, after I busted out of the Aladdin Classic, I was just a bit nervous sitting down at the $1/$2 game.  I did well, but it took some getting used to.  This time however, after 6 more months of higher stakes online and the previous day’s stint at the Palms’ $2/$5 game, it felt like I was sitting at a nickel and dime table.

I was calm, relaxed, and playing with 9 of the most amazing calling stations you’ll ever find.  One guy simply check-called his way through his entire buy-in.  Another guy reached for his wallet mid-way through a hand for more cash not realizing the rules about table stakes.  It was with a little sadness that I left the table to register for the noon tourney with Grubby.  After all, these ring games have been my bread and butter for the past year while tournaments have been the bane of my bankroll.

The tournament was a rollercoaster ride for me.  I had to take the re-buy when my pocket A’s were cracked by KQ when my opponent flopped two-pair.  I took the re-buy chips into the chip lead after busting three people, then managed to call off half my stack on a mis-read.  I exited not soon after coming over the top of one aggressive guy who finally had a hand.  Aces.  I lost my $20 last-longer bet with Grubby and went back to the ring games.

Unfortunately, the NL tables were full, and being the poker junkie I am, had to slum along at a $3/$6 limit table.  Ugh, limit poker.  Oddly, I stayed at that table from about 2pm until 1am.  I booked a small win, but the table was hugely +EV for entertainment value alone.  It was “one of those tables.”  Everyone was having a blast.  Especially when I taught everyone what a dial-a-shot was.

AlCantHang actually called me first thinking I was at my regular donk-fest Thursday night dealer’s choice game.  Then, the unthinkable happened.  The waitress told me that they were out of Southern Comfort.  Luckily Al wasn’t there or there’d have been hell to pay.  About 30 minutes later, the waitress did find some and brought me a shot.  I called G-Rob and the G-Vegas regulars partook in a cross-country dial-a-shot.  My table was a bit on the lame side; nobody would drink with me.  One guy’s wife who was watching him play stepped up to the plate since the guy claimed he didn’t drink.

Grubby finally got a seat after finishing ITM and joined me for some Vegas hold ‘em.  As mentioned on his site, Vegas hold ‘em is a variation on Texas hold ‘em.  It’s generally only played once it’s heads up, and it involves each player getting to flip over an opponent’s hole card of their choosing.  The dealers at the Aladdin were fine with this and we added some for spice to an already fun game.

Grubby had to run a few errands and pick up some free goodies elsewhere, and once he left, the fun-factor died down a bit.  Eventually he came back, but had to join the NL tables – which is where I should have gone but didn’t.  Sadly, 1 AM came faster than anticipated, and with my morning flight to San Jose the next day, I had to make my exit.

****

My Vegas trip was a success in every respect.  I played poker, drank with some good friends, and made it out alive with my bankroll intact.  Let me send a special thanks to Pauly and Grubby for being my hosts for a couple of days.  Perhaps it’s a good thing that I’m married with kids, because the Vegas life is so compelling and intense that I’m not sure how long I could last out there.  And if I were single and without kids, I’m pretty sure I’d be giving it a try.  December is calling…

Fun and Games

After cashing out of the $2/$5 game, I took a very short cab ride from The Palms to The Bellagio to meet up with the great Dr. Pauly.  He was busy covering the WPT event there, but said he would have some free time tonight to donk around with yours truly.  It was still relatively early, so if Pauly couldn’t escape his coverage obligations, I would have been content to play some more poker at the Bellagio poker room.

Pauly met me outside the poker room and got me inside the Fontana Room where they were holding the WPT event.  It was still day 2 and there were about 60-70 players left.  Pauly pointed out all the pros to me and introduced me to BJ from CardPlayer and to Curtis from SpecialKsPlace.  We excused ourselves for a bit and developed a plan of action outside while watching the fountains erupt.  Sadly, this was the first time I’d seen them in action.  Obviously, I’m not the ideal Vegas tourist.

Our itinerary came together rather quickly.  We would meet Grubby over at the Excalibur poker room and play some $2/$6 spread limit, get appropriately lubricated, then hit up some of Vegas’ finer adult entertainment establishments.  General Patton could not have come up with a better battle plan.

I’ve played at the Ex three times now.  I’ve NEVER come up a winner at the $2/$6 game.  I’ve never even been dealt AA there, hoping to get it cracked so I can spin the wheel.  Grubby did bring up an excellent point on playing AA at these tables, however.  Don’t raise.  Limp.  You WANT them cracked.  They are worth more cracked since you get double value for your wheel spins.  The minimum you can win is $40 and the max is $600.  Screw the pot, take the spin.

I believe I won more at the game on prop bets, picking the correct color of the wheel spins two times in a row.  Ha!  Take that Pauly and Grubby.

Once the three of us had our fill of the donks and donking in general, we were off to Sin.  It was a Wednesday night, and apparently Sin is not the best that Vegas has to offer.  But big deal, I was about to see nekkid boobies for the first time out of my three trips to Vegas.  That shit’s important.  Pauly drove, so we got in for free.  Bonus.  I bought the first round of drinks; but when I realized that the $20 bill I pulled from my wad wasn’t enough to cover it, I was glad I drank a plenty at the Ex.

I couldn’t help compare the talent level to some of the places that G-Vegas has to offer.  Not to sound all snooty, but G-Vegas clubs have more talent.  But that was OK, I was having a rollicking good time with my Vegas hosts, even if drinks were $10 a pop.

We did a bunch of BS’ing with the local talent.  I told one local that Grubby was a former Mr. Southern Xiang-quan-do champion bodybuilder who retired because he was tired of all the posing.  My cover story was that I was a hot-air balloon pilot named Stone Cold Steve.  Yes, I was wearing my Austin jersey that April got me.

At about 4am, I was losing my steam.  I’d been up for over 24 straight hours since I was still on Eastern time.  I’d spent enough cash at Sin and figured there’d be more to do tomorrow.  I told Grubby we’d meet at Aladdin for the 12pm tourney and then we were out.  Pauly drove me back to the Palms and I made my way up to the room.  On the way up, the elevator stopped and two totally amazing chicks hopped in wearing very revealing pajamas.  Apparently, they were on their way to a pajama party.  I said nothing; I could only steal a glance here and there wondering what a 10-year younger me would have done in this situation.  Probably what my current self did, exit on my floor, walk to my room and fall fast asleep.

A Dish Best Served Cold

As I was riding the shuttle bus from the airport to The Palms, I wasn’t very excited.  This was my 3rd trip to Vegas, but this time, I was here by myself.  My anticipation level was low as there was no blogging contingent to meet up with, no planned activities like Storming the Castle, no massive drinking of 3 ft. margaritas – just me and Vegas and poker.

Sure, I’d get to meet up with Pauly and Grubby, and that was sure to be a blast, but I knew Pauly had tournament coverage obligations, so I thought I’d spend much of the time flying solo.  Which was fine, because I planned it that way.

I was really here on a mission.  I had something to prove to myself.  I was going to take back from Vegas more than just my confidence; I was here for a bit of revenge.

If any of you are comic book geeks, some of you may remember an obscure title called Ronin.  It was authored and illustrated by one of the industry’s finest – Frank Miller, he of the Dark Knight Returns fame.  In Ronin, the hero is a masterless samurai displaced thousands of years into Earth’s future.  His arms are robotic prostheses and he’s pretty damned good with a sword.  In one scene, he’s basically left for dead when a couple of street gang leaders beat the ever-lovin’ crap out of him.  That’s not unlike how I felt back in December during my first trip to Vegas.  Some of you may remember my experience at Mandalay Bay:

The first: I'm dealt A,Q in EP and raise the $4 blind to $17 and get 1 lone caller. The flop is A,7,4.  I get fancy and check the flop and the lone caller bets $25. I immediately check-raise it to $50 and the guy pauses. I know I'm good here. His reaction to my raise, his reluctance in calling, it's all there. I've got him nailed. The turn is a K and I put him all-in. More pausing, more hesitation. Finally he calls. We flip up our cards and he shows A,10. There is $320 in the pot. The river? Guess. My first bad beat is a 3-outer and it costs me huge. I wince, but I vow to keep on keepin' on. The other players at the table even complimented me on a hand well played. Big freakin' deal.Then comes the second: I'm dealt K,K in EP and raise the $4 blind to $17. See a pattern? Anyway, the SAME FUCKING GUY re-raises me to $30. Now, I'm certainly not psychic, but his re-raise seemed weak. Again, I knew he didn't have aces here. So, of course, I re-raise all-in. The guy has me covered with the $320 he won only 20 minutes earlier and quickly calls. We flip our cards, he has Q,Q. Can you say dominated? I didn't. However, the bastards at my table tell me "Don't worry, he'll catch his queen on the river." Honestly, I'm not making it up, this was said to my face before the flop even occurred. The flop was junk, the turn was a brick. The river? Guess. A 2-outer, and I'm busted.

I still remember those beats as if they happened yesterday and not over ten months ago.  I am supposed to get over that stuff if I ever want to move on.  And I have.  But forgiving and forgetting are two different things.

****
After checked-in, I made my way down to the casino floor at The Palms looking for their poker room.  After picking my jaw up off the floor at the sight of their cocktail waitresses, I managed to find the “high stakes” poker area.  “Hmm, probably not for me,” I thought.  Right next to it was the regular poker room, but alas they were only dealing $2/$4 and $4/$8 limit poker.  I inquired as to the availability of the no-limit tables and the cardroom manager directed me back to the “high stakes” room.  Ok then, here we go.

The game was $2/$5 blinds, $500 buy-in no limit poker.  I bought in for $300.  I know, I know.  But that’s what I did.  It happened to be the most cash I EVER bought in for in a poker game.  I don’t think that a $500 buy-in would have mattered much.  There were players with $1500 in front of them.  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that on a Wednesday afternoon, the table was jammed with locals.  Real good locals.  In fact, my heart didn’t leave my throat until I’d played about three orbits.

Certainly, doubts crept into my mind about what I was doing.  But this was it, this was my personal test.  I came to Vegas for EXACTLY this reason.  I was either going to prove to myself that I had a chance to be a poker player, or I was going to leave knowing I wasn’t.

****

Things started off reasonably well.  I had KJ in late position and flopped middle pair.  When the flop and turn were checked, I easily called a $30 bet that was called once before me and took down a pot beating pocket 8’s and pocket T’s.  I was a bit passive at first, understanding that I was probably making these regulars salivate at the fresh meat at the table.  I’d get aggressive when the situation dictated it.

Aggression, meet pocket K’s.  I raised 6x the BB to $30 and got two callers in later position.  The flop was a semi-coordinated 79J with two diamonds.  I bet $50 into the pot and got the button to call.  All the while during this hand, I’m telling myself “Do not go broke here, do not go broke here.”  The turn was the Ace of diamonds, completing the flush draw and putting that dreaded overcard on the board.  I checked, the button checked.  The river was a blank and I checked again.  The button checked down his T8o for the flopped straight.  The flush draw saved me some cash and I salvaged a mini-victory – I did not go broke.

Sadly, pocket J’s were no good at this table either.  A King-high flop ensured that my $50 continuation bet was more money in the local’s pockets.  After a couple of hours, I was hovering around my initial buy-in, but getting more comfortable all the while.

Then it came.

****

All the while the Ronin is lying in his own blood, arms severed and barely conscious, he’s still focused.  In fact, he’s so focused that he’s able to use telekinesis to repair his arms and over time regains enough composure to walk back to the place of his beating and re-challenge his tormentors.  He’s learned from his previous battle and this time, he will not lose.

****

I’m on the button and I find AK of spades.  Two people limp and the button raises to $30.  I come along for the ride as do the two limpers.  I could have re-raised here, but I’m out of position and perhaps a smooth call will add some uncertainty to my holding.

The flop is K32.  Rainbow.  I check.

(“I get fancy and check the flop”)

Both limpers check and the pre-flop raiser comes out firing for $60.  I come out with a check raise and make it $160 to go.  Both limpers fold and the button pauses.

(”I immediately check-raise it to $50 and the guy pauses. I know I'm good here.”)

The button is a good player.  He’ has close to $2000 in front of him.  But he’s paused.  He’s at least thinking about my check-raise and what it means.  He’s paused and stacking chips.  First he makes one stack of the $100 required to call me.  Then he makes a second stack of $100 and looks at me.  I look back, calmly.  In my mind, if he re-raises, I’m pushing.  His pause told me everything I needed to know.  Finally, he simply calls.

The turn is a rag.

“I’m all in.”

(“The turn is a K and I put him all-in. More pausing, more hesitation. Finally he calls.”)  

But here the script goes astray and changes course.  He insta-calls.  Now I’m very confused and dare I say it, a little bit scared.  I’m pretty sure my testicles have crawled back into my body cavity.  At The Palms, cards are not turned over immediately, so at this point; I do not know what my opponent has.  The river is dealt and it’s a Jack.  Was that a good card for me?  A bad one?  With some bit of resignation in my voice, I flip over my AK and say “Kings, Ace-kicker.”

The button slowly flips one card.  It’s a King.

I don’t move, but I’m thinking to myself “Do not slow roll me, because if you do, I will hurt you.”

****

By the end of the encounter, the gang leaders who originally nearly destroyed the Ronin are no more.  But what of my Vegas demons?  Only the turn of one single card would determine my fortune.  Regardless of the outcome, I had my chance and I took it.  I played the hand the best I could and just like at Mandalay Bay, I shouldn’t put too much value in the results.

****

But I’m human, and the results do matter to me, perhaps more than they should.  I never got to see the button’s second card.  He mucked it.  I can only assume he had KQ and lost a kicker battle.  When the dealer made the pot right, I gathered an insane amount of $5 and $1 chips.

The final tally was $758.  Biggest. Pot. Ever.

And no small bit of redemption.

****

I left the poker room not soon after.  I had completed my own personal quest to redeem myself at the Vegas no limit poker tables.  Later in the weekend, I’d learn that the Wednesday afternoon game at the Palms is filled with local sharks and full time players who feast off the likes of me.  Part of me knows that this single session is no great indicator of my relative skill compared to them.  But part of me also knows that I went to battle with some of the best players I’d ever played with, stood toe to toe, and for at least one short while came out on top.

I can’t describe how good it felt.  I can’t tell you why I also felt it was something I had to do by myself.  It just was.

Back

I am back. I'll have a good-sized trip report soon. But I'm wiped. I got home on Sunday just in time to see my surrogate get busted from the Stars freeroll. To anyone who stopped to say "Hi," I apologize, it wasn't me.

What Makes a Great Blog?

PokerStars is announcing ANOTHER contest within a contest. For all registrants of PokerStars Blogger Championship, we are giving out a cool PokerStars Fleece for the following contest:In your own words (any length you think is appropriate), tell PokerStars what makes a good blog. If you have a poker blog or one that has this as a major topic, please add relevance to poker in your topic.

**** My Entry ****

What makes a good poker blog?  Certainly, there are many things.  Is it great writing?  Truly, there are some very talented writers out there with a flair for creating prose that brings you right into their thought processes.  Is it great content?  Again, there are some talented poker players out there whose results are envied across the blogosphere.  Granted, there are even some who represent a combination of both great writing and great content.  But still, there exists one required ingredient, which for me truly differentiates a blog from being merely a good one to one that is a great one.

A willingness to put your true thoughts and feelings online for the world to see.

When you read someone’s poker blog, often times you can really get a sense for who that person is in real life.  Prior to our first big get-together in Vegas back in December of 2004, few bloggers had ever met each other face-to-face.  When we finally all came together to meet, every one felt as though we had met before.  In effect, we had.

The great bloggers leave a piece of themselves in their writing.  That piece is there to be given to the readers to do with as they please.  When a blogger is honest and forthcoming in their writing, the readers pick up on it and latch to it in earnest.  It’s how friends are made.  Certainly, there is no requirement to do so when you create and maintain a blog.  But for those that do, for those that take that small risk and put a piece of themselves out in the wild for the world to consume, they are the bloggers that earn themselves the respect, the camaraderie and the friendship of so many others.

A great blog can only be created by a great blogger.

****

Off to Vegas tomorrow, I’ll be in touch.