I sometimes think the game that poker most resembles is rock, paper, scissors - except that instead of three objects there are three thousand different things that beat each other in different ways. Spark plugs beat paper clips but cell phones beat spark plugs. Coffee pots beat parking tickets which beat alarm clocks which beat...well, you get the idea. Your style of play may work against certain types of opponents, but be disastrous against others. The great poker players are the ones who can tell a can opener from a gas pedal and change themselves from a D-cell battery into a bowl of guacamole.
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I came into the poker room in the perfect mind-state; calm and confident - but instead of allowing caution to temper my confidence I let my ego take over and become cocky and cute. Then I became broke. I wont bore you with a card-by-card retelling. I simply under-estimated an opponent. He suckered me. How did he do it? How did he convince me he was a moron when in fact he was a genius? He simply looked up at the TV nearest our table and said, "There is a new Harold and Kumar movie coming out? Sweet!".
Now I ask you, is there a poker player in the world who upon hearing those words would not be convinced that the speaker (who, by the way, was drinking chocolate milk and resembled Alfred E. Newman) would soon be busted out? I certainly thought so and I eagerly waited to see how many of his chips would end up in front of me. The problem was that Alfred turned out to be the best poker player I have ever played against. He is amazing. And at the time I could not admit he was better than I because, well, he said that thing about Harold and Kumar so obviously he is an idiot. An idiot who got all my chips.
In retrospect I think Alfred is simply a type of player I have not developed an effective counter-strategy for yet. So, while I lick my wounds I hope I have learned something that will make me a better player down the road.
We'll meet again Mr. Newman.
WHERE'S YER BLOG SONNY?
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