I lost $200 at the poker room yesterday, but even worse than the financial hit is the fact that I can't figure out what happened. If you are playing within proper bankroll limits, then losing a stake to single session is not the end of the world. But it is troubling when make drunk-guy mistakes when stone-cold sober.
The red flag that I should have been paying attention to was that I was simply confused as to what cards were making the best hands. Several times it seemed to me that the dealer was pushing the pot to the wrong player. One guy might "win" with two pair, but wait! Doesn't that other guy have a straight!? No I guess he must not or someone else would have said something and the board is mucked before I can confirm what I think.
This keeps happening all session long. One time, when I was sure the dealer was making a mistake and pushing the pot to the wrong guy, I cried out "No, wait!" and everyone looked at me while I tried to make sense of the board. No, that straight I thought was there wasn't there. How could I be so stupid? I apologized to the table and never questioned the dealer again, even when he gave the pot to someone else when I thought I won it.
What was wrong with me? I tried to force myself to focus, but it wasn't any good. It was like I was playing in a parallel universe to the rest of the table - one where the rules of poker were slightly different. One where an ace that comes on the flop can turn into a four if you look twice.
Is it surprising that I lost all my money?
Is it surprising that I'm worried about my mental state?
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
An Embarassing Win
About two months ago I did something really dumb and somehow didn't lose a large amount of money. I've told my friends about it, but I never got around to writing about until now. I don't know if it serves any educational purpose to relate it, but it was very weird. Maybe there is a lesson to be learned about paying attention.
I had been playing $1/$2 no limit for about two hours and had grown my stack from $200 to around $320 - playing my usual tight game. Buddy on my left was pretty loose, and I'd taken a few pots when he called when he should have folded.
Then this happened:
I was in late position when Lucky-Short-Stack (middle position) raised $15 pre-flop with only around $80 in chips in front of him. I looked down at J9o and made what can only be described as a very bad call. Why I did this I can't say - against a short stack it seems a very bad play because even if I hit, I'm not going to get a huge pay-off. It was dumb and inexplicable as up to that point I'd been playing smart poker. Anyway Buddy-On-my-Left also calls so three of us see the flop: Ks Qd 5h
Okay, I've got an open-ended straight draw. That's a 1-in-3 shot to complete if I can stick around to the river right? There's about $40 in the pot. Lucky is the first to act and he fires half of his stack - $40 - into the middle. I'm getting pot odds to call, so I do. Buddy calls too. With a $160 pot the three of us see the turn. The board now looks like this: Ks Qd 5h 2s.
Lucky puts his last $40 in. Praying I hit my straight, I call. Now the pot is $280, with Lucky all in. Buddy calls as well.
The river brings an 8h! I hit my straight! Whoopee! Now I'm gonna clean out Buddy here for all his chips! There is no way he can escape! I just check, not wanting to scare him away. Just as I expected he put in a bet - but only $100, much to my disappointment. I hemmed and hawed a bit to sell it, then pushed all-in - a $200 re-raise.
And then it hit me: I don't have a straight. In fact, I don't have anything at all. I just put all my chips into a pot without so much as a pair. Even though I suddenly felt like puking, I somehow managed to keep my face from betraying me. After about two minutes (It felt like twenty) Buddy folds - showing that he had A K. I guess he was convinced by my tight play that top-pair top-kicker wasn't good enough to beat me. The side pot was mine.
I would have mucked my hand, except I was also in the main pot with Lucky-Short-Stack, so I had to show. "I got nothing." I said as I flip my cards over. Buddy, as you might expect, is a little put out. Lucky-Short-Stack, can't believe it - all he has is a pair of queens, but since I pushed out Buddy (who says he folded kings) he goes from getting busted to tripling up.
For all my incredible risk taking, I only made about $20 in total because I lost the main pot. Still it could have been - should have been- a disaster for me.
I ended up $140 up on the day when I left about an hour later. What can you learn from this? Nothing except that sometimes lady luck smiles even on idiots.
I had been playing $1/$2 no limit for about two hours and had grown my stack from $200 to around $320 - playing my usual tight game. Buddy on my left was pretty loose, and I'd taken a few pots when he called when he should have folded.
Then this happened:
I was in late position when Lucky-Short-Stack (middle position) raised $15 pre-flop with only around $80 in chips in front of him. I looked down at J9o and made what can only be described as a very bad call. Why I did this I can't say - against a short stack it seems a very bad play because even if I hit, I'm not going to get a huge pay-off. It was dumb and inexplicable as up to that point I'd been playing smart poker. Anyway Buddy-On-my-Left also calls so three of us see the flop: Ks Qd 5h
Okay, I've got an open-ended straight draw. That's a 1-in-3 shot to complete if I can stick around to the river right? There's about $40 in the pot. Lucky is the first to act and he fires half of his stack - $40 - into the middle. I'm getting pot odds to call, so I do. Buddy calls too. With a $160 pot the three of us see the turn. The board now looks like this: Ks Qd 5h 2s.
Lucky puts his last $40 in. Praying I hit my straight, I call. Now the pot is $280, with Lucky all in. Buddy calls as well.
The river brings an 8h! I hit my straight! Whoopee! Now I'm gonna clean out Buddy here for all his chips! There is no way he can escape! I just check, not wanting to scare him away. Just as I expected he put in a bet - but only $100, much to my disappointment. I hemmed and hawed a bit to sell it, then pushed all-in - a $200 re-raise.
And then it hit me: I don't have a straight. In fact, I don't have anything at all. I just put all my chips into a pot without so much as a pair. Even though I suddenly felt like puking, I somehow managed to keep my face from betraying me. After about two minutes (It felt like twenty) Buddy folds - showing that he had A K. I guess he was convinced by my tight play that top-pair top-kicker wasn't good enough to beat me. The side pot was mine.
I would have mucked my hand, except I was also in the main pot with Lucky-Short-Stack, so I had to show. "I got nothing." I said as I flip my cards over. Buddy, as you might expect, is a little put out. Lucky-Short-Stack, can't believe it - all he has is a pair of queens, but since I pushed out Buddy (who says he folded kings) he goes from getting busted to tripling up.
For all my incredible risk taking, I only made about $20 in total because I lost the main pot. Still it could have been - should have been- a disaster for me.
I ended up $140 up on the day when I left about an hour later. What can you learn from this? Nothing except that sometimes lady luck smiles even on idiots.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The Fun Factor
A few weeks ago I wrote a post about the detrimental effect fear will have on your game. Yesterday, while playing in a live tournament, it suddenly struck me that having fun at the poker table actually helps you win.
My epiphany came as I sat with a hot Asian chick on my left who obviously was enjoying herself, kibbitzing and teasing, not taking the game like it was life and death. On my right sat Bad Luck Schleprock, a miserable grumbler who had his own personal rain-cloud hovering over him. There was another happy-go-lucky fellow at the table too, and this guy seemed to be unbeatable. He was playing every second or third pot and winning more than his fair share of them. Sure enough Schleprock's stack soon dwindled to nothing while Mr.Fun and Glamour Girl ran over the rest of us.
Does winning at poker make you happy? It seems like the answer should be an obvious yes, but I'm not so sure. What I am more confident in saying is that being happy makes you more likely to win at poker. Poker is, after all, a game. The playful mind sees possibilities where the grumpy mind sees foolishness. Furthermore a happy-go-lucky demeanour can put the grouches on tilt, the grouch is convinced Mr. Happy is not good but lucky, and they let this perception influence their decisions.
I once heard someone say you should play poker with a loose body and a tight mind. Maybe "happy" is too general a word for this "loose body" state I am referring to. It is a concept that I am still trying to understand. Any insights you would care to share would be appreciated.
My epiphany came as I sat with a hot Asian chick on my left who obviously was enjoying herself, kibbitzing and teasing, not taking the game like it was life and death. On my right sat Bad Luck Schleprock, a miserable grumbler who had his own personal rain-cloud hovering over him. There was another happy-go-lucky fellow at the table too, and this guy seemed to be unbeatable. He was playing every second or third pot and winning more than his fair share of them. Sure enough Schleprock's stack soon dwindled to nothing while Mr.Fun and Glamour Girl ran over the rest of us.
Does winning at poker make you happy? It seems like the answer should be an obvious yes, but I'm not so sure. What I am more confident in saying is that being happy makes you more likely to win at poker. Poker is, after all, a game. The playful mind sees possibilities where the grumpy mind sees foolishness. Furthermore a happy-go-lucky demeanour can put the grouches on tilt, the grouch is convinced Mr. Happy is not good but lucky, and they let this perception influence their decisions.
I once heard someone say you should play poker with a loose body and a tight mind. Maybe "happy" is too general a word for this "loose body" state I am referring to. It is a concept that I am still trying to understand. Any insights you would care to share would be appreciated.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Confessions of a Nit
A few years ago I started hearing the word "nit" applied to a particular type of player- one who is extremely tight and cautious (I like the word "cautious" but you could also use the word "passive"). Being called a nit is kind of an insult. A lot of players equate a nit to a chicken-shit - a player who is simply afraid to take chances. Some dislike nits because it is so difficult to win big pots off them. Some players like to insult the nits in hopes it will make them play more recklessly.
The truth (and of course I'm generalizing) is that playing like a nit is profitable at low-stakes games. Why is that? I think it's because at $1/$2 NLHE, players generally make bigger bets in relation to the blind. It is not uncommon, in my experience, to see guys make $20 pre-flop bets. $20 doesn't seem like a lot of money, but when you view it as a bet that is 10 times the big blind, it is quite a lot. In a $10/$20 game, you would very rarely see a $200 pre-flop bet. Because the blinds are low at the $1/$2 level, lots of players are very loose with their starting hand requirements and want to see a lot of flops. By playing fewer hands, the nit has the advantage of usually holding the better starting hand, and only winning a few pots can be profitable because they are generally large compared to the blinds.
The big disadvantage to being a nit is that your opponents will quickly target you as a guy who can be pushed off hands. You can turn this to your advantage, however. The prejudice against the nit is that they have neither courage nor imagination - therefore when you do bet you will be given credit for having a legitimate hand. You can steal pots. as long as you don't do it so frequently as to endanger your nit status. If you have established yourself as a nit, when a bully tries to bluff you, you can bluff him back, and because at the low stakes these pots are usually several times the big blind, you only have to scoop a few to have a winning session. Let yourself be pushed off a lot of pots; you only have to scoop one here and there to stay in the positive. Don't get greedy.
Playing tight for the first couple of hours at the poker table has two advantages. 1) You develop a nit image which you can turn to your favour later on. 2) You can focus on trying to identify which of your opponents are the most likely to try to take advantage of you; these are not necessarily the most aggressive players, but the ones you think have pegged you for a nit. These are the ones you have to try to isolate and attack later on.
If this style of play appeals to you, you can do certain things to develop a nit image. When you are the only person at the table not to enter a "family pot", especially when you are in late position, it is so obvious that you are tight that even the dullest opponent will take note. Once I refused to enter an unraised family pot when I was in the small blind. This fold is so rare, particularly at the low-limit games, that the dealer remarked, "Everyone's in...except for one incredible tight-ass." I got away with murder for hours after that!
Remember, often what your opponent thinks you are holding is much more important than what you are actually holding.
The truth (and of course I'm generalizing) is that playing like a nit is profitable at low-stakes games. Why is that? I think it's because at $1/$2 NLHE, players generally make bigger bets in relation to the blind. It is not uncommon, in my experience, to see guys make $20 pre-flop bets. $20 doesn't seem like a lot of money, but when you view it as a bet that is 10 times the big blind, it is quite a lot. In a $10/$20 game, you would very rarely see a $200 pre-flop bet. Because the blinds are low at the $1/$2 level, lots of players are very loose with their starting hand requirements and want to see a lot of flops. By playing fewer hands, the nit has the advantage of usually holding the better starting hand, and only winning a few pots can be profitable because they are generally large compared to the blinds.
The big disadvantage to being a nit is that your opponents will quickly target you as a guy who can be pushed off hands. You can turn this to your advantage, however. The prejudice against the nit is that they have neither courage nor imagination - therefore when you do bet you will be given credit for having a legitimate hand. You can steal pots. as long as you don't do it so frequently as to endanger your nit status. If you have established yourself as a nit, when a bully tries to bluff you, you can bluff him back, and because at the low stakes these pots are usually several times the big blind, you only have to scoop a few to have a winning session. Let yourself be pushed off a lot of pots; you only have to scoop one here and there to stay in the positive. Don't get greedy.
Playing tight for the first couple of hours at the poker table has two advantages. 1) You develop a nit image which you can turn to your favour later on. 2) You can focus on trying to identify which of your opponents are the most likely to try to take advantage of you; these are not necessarily the most aggressive players, but the ones you think have pegged you for a nit. These are the ones you have to try to isolate and attack later on.
If this style of play appeals to you, you can do certain things to develop a nit image. When you are the only person at the table not to enter a "family pot", especially when you are in late position, it is so obvious that you are tight that even the dullest opponent will take note. Once I refused to enter an unraised family pot when I was in the small blind. This fold is so rare, particularly at the low-limit games, that the dealer remarked, "Everyone's in...except for one incredible tight-ass." I got away with murder for hours after that!
Remember, often what your opponent thinks you are holding is much more important than what you are actually holding.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Happy New Year!
The moment 2012 began I was holding A7 off. I missed the flop when the hand was suspended while everyone at the party hugged and kissed and wished each other all the best for the new year. My first poker act of the year was a fold.
What better way to ring in a new year than playing poker with your friends and family? In my case it was a very informal tournament-style game with my wife, my sister-in-law Liz, and friends Lee and Wally. It broke up at around 2 a.m. with Liz and I agreeing to split the pot. My share of the winnings included a scratch-n-win lotto ticket worth $9.
May 2012 be a great year for you at the poker table, but more importantly I wish you a healthy, happy year in which poker is just one part of your balanced life. Remember the important things; friends, family, and not calling all-in bets with just a gut-shot draw....Not that I'm bitter about that particular bad beat. That was last year, after all.
My best to you all. I hope we can help each other become better players this year.
Peace.
What better way to ring in a new year than playing poker with your friends and family? In my case it was a very informal tournament-style game with my wife, my sister-in-law Liz, and friends Lee and Wally. It broke up at around 2 a.m. with Liz and I agreeing to split the pot. My share of the winnings included a scratch-n-win lotto ticket worth $9.
May 2012 be a great year for you at the poker table, but more importantly I wish you a healthy, happy year in which poker is just one part of your balanced life. Remember the important things; friends, family, and not calling all-in bets with just a gut-shot draw....Not that I'm bitter about that particular bad beat. That was last year, after all.
My best to you all. I hope we can help each other become better players this year.
Peace.
Friday, December 23, 2011
The Fear Factor
A casino is kind of intimidating. Even though I have played about three dozen times at eight different card rooms, I still feel nervous walking into a casino. I'm doing something (Gambling! Temptation leading to ruination and hell-fire!) that my inner-prude does not approve of. Excitement mixed with guilt - much like I felt in my youth when I screwed up the courage to buy a girlie magazine. Maybe this is part of the reason I enjoy going to card rooms, to have that long forgotten feeling return.
There are positive and negative consequence to being fearful. Fear makes you cautious, less likely to make a bad call because you are concentrating on the possible negative outcome rather than hoping for the positive outcome. The fearful player is on high alert - all your primal survival instincts are activated and you are more likely to pick up on danger signs a less attentive player would miss.
Unfortunately the negative aspects of fear out-weigh the benefits. Being in a fearful state means that instinct rather than logic is guiding your actions.
Let me give you an example of how I let my fear lead me to make a very bad and costly decision: I had been playing at a somewhat tight table of $1/$2 NLHE for an hour when a maniac sat down and started betting and raising everything. He stole a few pots before the table caught on that he was going to play pretty much every hand like a game of chicken, so everyone loosened up in the hopes of hitting a decent hand and getting paid off. Rather than back off, the maniac just stepped on the gas even harder betting 20 times the big blind pre-flop almost every hand. The table loosened up even more and suddenly everything was completely insane. The maniac had lost the $300 he had brought to the table, bought another $300 and lost that in about fifteen minutes, and with a smile like this was the most fun he ever had he bought another $300 in chips. I was way to scared to play! I knew any hand I played I had to be prepared to take to a showdown, I had to be prepared to pay a minimum of $40 just to see a flop. I was in middle position when I was dealt AK of hearts. The maniac was down to $65 again, and he pushed it all-in from early position. Another very loose player (let's call him Scott, because that was his name.) called ahead of me. Scott had also been losing and re-buying, and after his $65 call he had only another $100 in chips left. My turn to act. I have about $180 in chips. What do I do? The best thing would be to push all in. AKs is a good hand, but only if you can see all five board cards, so just calling would mean I'd be putting myself in a tough spot if I miss the flop. Scott has been playing ultra-aggressively and would certainly put his last $100 into the pot if he didn't see an Ace or King hit, knowing I'm scared and would fold. True there is only about a 50% chance I will hit a king or ace or heart flush, but if Scott calls (a probability) then I've a 50% shot at pot I've put less than half the chips into - and that's if Scott or the maniac are holding a pocket pair. If either or both of the have Ace-something then I'm a big favourite. My pot odds get even better if someone behind me calls too. Clearly the superior move, the logical move, is to go all-in. But I'm too scared. All these huge bets have turned me into coward and I don't have the courage to put all my chips in. And, even worse, I don't have the common sense to fold a hand I won't raise with. I do the worst possible thing because I let my emotion dictate my action - I call.
The three of us see the flop: 9c 2d 4h. As expected Scott goes all-in. Of course I should probably call with my Ace high, Scott was going all-in with anything here, but I'm way too chicken to make that call. I fold. With no more betting possible, the Maniac and Scott flip their cards over. The Maniac has pocket 8's. Scott has J6 of hearts (seriously?!). The turn and river are both hearts and Scott hits a runner-runner flush that would have been crushed by my nut flush had I not been to afraid to play that hand properly.
It's ok to be afraid, but make sure you keep it in check. Small amounts of fear are even beneficial if you can recognize and over-ride your impulses with logic. But when you feel too scared to play well, then it's best to just step away from the table. There is no shame in recognizing your limitations. You have to do this, in fact, before you can find a way to conquer your fear and become a better player.
There are positive and negative consequence to being fearful. Fear makes you cautious, less likely to make a bad call because you are concentrating on the possible negative outcome rather than hoping for the positive outcome. The fearful player is on high alert - all your primal survival instincts are activated and you are more likely to pick up on danger signs a less attentive player would miss.
Unfortunately the negative aspects of fear out-weigh the benefits. Being in a fearful state means that instinct rather than logic is guiding your actions.
Let me give you an example of how I let my fear lead me to make a very bad and costly decision: I had been playing at a somewhat tight table of $1/$2 NLHE for an hour when a maniac sat down and started betting and raising everything. He stole a few pots before the table caught on that he was going to play pretty much every hand like a game of chicken, so everyone loosened up in the hopes of hitting a decent hand and getting paid off. Rather than back off, the maniac just stepped on the gas even harder betting 20 times the big blind pre-flop almost every hand. The table loosened up even more and suddenly everything was completely insane. The maniac had lost the $300 he had brought to the table, bought another $300 and lost that in about fifteen minutes, and with a smile like this was the most fun he ever had he bought another $300 in chips. I was way to scared to play! I knew any hand I played I had to be prepared to take to a showdown, I had to be prepared to pay a minimum of $40 just to see a flop. I was in middle position when I was dealt AK of hearts. The maniac was down to $65 again, and he pushed it all-in from early position. Another very loose player (let's call him Scott, because that was his name.) called ahead of me. Scott had also been losing and re-buying, and after his $65 call he had only another $100 in chips left. My turn to act. I have about $180 in chips. What do I do? The best thing would be to push all in. AKs is a good hand, but only if you can see all five board cards, so just calling would mean I'd be putting myself in a tough spot if I miss the flop. Scott has been playing ultra-aggressively and would certainly put his last $100 into the pot if he didn't see an Ace or King hit, knowing I'm scared and would fold. True there is only about a 50% chance I will hit a king or ace or heart flush, but if Scott calls (a probability) then I've a 50% shot at pot I've put less than half the chips into - and that's if Scott or the maniac are holding a pocket pair. If either or both of the have Ace-something then I'm a big favourite. My pot odds get even better if someone behind me calls too. Clearly the superior move, the logical move, is to go all-in. But I'm too scared. All these huge bets have turned me into coward and I don't have the courage to put all my chips in. And, even worse, I don't have the common sense to fold a hand I won't raise with. I do the worst possible thing because I let my emotion dictate my action - I call.
The three of us see the flop: 9c 2d 4h. As expected Scott goes all-in. Of course I should probably call with my Ace high, Scott was going all-in with anything here, but I'm way too chicken to make that call. I fold. With no more betting possible, the Maniac and Scott flip their cards over. The Maniac has pocket 8's. Scott has J6 of hearts (seriously?!). The turn and river are both hearts and Scott hits a runner-runner flush that would have been crushed by my nut flush had I not been to afraid to play that hand properly.
It's ok to be afraid, but make sure you keep it in check. Small amounts of fear are even beneficial if you can recognize and over-ride your impulses with logic. But when you feel too scared to play well, then it's best to just step away from the table. There is no shame in recognizing your limitations. You have to do this, in fact, before you can find a way to conquer your fear and become a better player.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
When You're Beat, You're Beat
No matter how good your hand is, you have to let it go if you think you are beat. That means if you have an ace high flush and the there are two pair on the board, if you bet the pot and an opponent comes over the top on you, you'd better believe he has a full house. Your flush is as worthless as any two rags and as hard as it is, you have to lay them down.
This is one of the most difficult parts of the game; learning to make tough laydowns. Sometimes you know you are beat but it's just so hard to fold a nice hand! If this is a problem you have, then you must learn to take pride in your good folds. Donks want to be known for making hero calls and hero bluffs. You are not a donk. You want to be known for making great laydowns.
Yesterday I made the best pre-flop fold I have ever made in my life.
I brought $200 to a $1/$2 NLHE table. I had barely sat down when on my second or third hand I was dealt pocket kings. There was a straddle on board with one caller, so I raised it $10 (anymore would get too much attention) and the fellow on my left re-raised to $25. Sweet! The small blind, who only had about $60 called. What to do? There is only one hand I am afraid of, and the odds of being dealt AA are less than half of one percent, so I'm confident I'm ahead and it's time to punish these undisciplined louts. I make it $100 to go, committing half my stack, and I'm hoping that someone calls. However the guy on my left does not call - he goes all in with about $300. I should be elated, but instead I am filled with the cold certainty that this guy has the pocket aces. I don't care if the odds are 221 to 1 against it - I think a decent player (and I've played this guy before - he's very good) doesn't re-raise a bet 50 times the big blind with anything but AA. The guy in the small blind calls with the remaining $40 or so he has - whatever.
I think this guy has aces, but am I really going to fold pocket kings pre-flop? I don't think I've folded this hand pre-flop in my life, but I am convinced I am behind. I fold. As there can be no more betting, I show my kings. Lefty nods and says "great fold" and turns over the black aces. The guy in the small blind shows ace-king off, which means had I called I would have only a single king to hit. The dealer lays out the hand and there are no miracle flushes or straight to save the guy with AK. I thank the poker gods that the last king didn't show up either - that would have been hard to swallow.
So. I lost half my stack, but I didn't lose all of it. And I did gain something else - Respect. Knowing that I was now seen as a very disciplined player meant that the others really didn't want to tangle with me too much. I knuckled down and three hours later I had grown my remaining $100 to $330, leaving the table with a $130 profit. How did I do that? I played unbelievably tight, disciplined poker and I basically scared the crap out of everyone when I did enter a pot.
But even if hadn't made that comeback, the important thing is that I laid down a monster hand when I knew it was beat.
This is one of the most difficult parts of the game; learning to make tough laydowns. Sometimes you know you are beat but it's just so hard to fold a nice hand! If this is a problem you have, then you must learn to take pride in your good folds. Donks want to be known for making hero calls and hero bluffs. You are not a donk. You want to be known for making great laydowns.
Yesterday I made the best pre-flop fold I have ever made in my life.
I brought $200 to a $1/$2 NLHE table. I had barely sat down when on my second or third hand I was dealt pocket kings. There was a straddle on board with one caller, so I raised it $10 (anymore would get too much attention) and the fellow on my left re-raised to $25. Sweet! The small blind, who only had about $60 called. What to do? There is only one hand I am afraid of, and the odds of being dealt AA are less than half of one percent, so I'm confident I'm ahead and it's time to punish these undisciplined louts. I make it $100 to go, committing half my stack, and I'm hoping that someone calls. However the guy on my left does not call - he goes all in with about $300. I should be elated, but instead I am filled with the cold certainty that this guy has the pocket aces. I don't care if the odds are 221 to 1 against it - I think a decent player (and I've played this guy before - he's very good) doesn't re-raise a bet 50 times the big blind with anything but AA. The guy in the small blind calls with the remaining $40 or so he has - whatever.
I think this guy has aces, but am I really going to fold pocket kings pre-flop? I don't think I've folded this hand pre-flop in my life, but I am convinced I am behind. I fold. As there can be no more betting, I show my kings. Lefty nods and says "great fold" and turns over the black aces. The guy in the small blind shows ace-king off, which means had I called I would have only a single king to hit. The dealer lays out the hand and there are no miracle flushes or straight to save the guy with AK. I thank the poker gods that the last king didn't show up either - that would have been hard to swallow.
So. I lost half my stack, but I didn't lose all of it. And I did gain something else - Respect. Knowing that I was now seen as a very disciplined player meant that the others really didn't want to tangle with me too much. I knuckled down and three hours later I had grown my remaining $100 to $330, leaving the table with a $130 profit. How did I do that? I played unbelievably tight, disciplined poker and I basically scared the crap out of everyone when I did enter a pot.
But even if hadn't made that comeback, the important thing is that I laid down a monster hand when I knew it was beat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)