Why Do I Play Poker?

January 29, 2010

Full Tilt’s Rush Poker — A lesson in focus.….I think.

Filed under: Full Tilt Poker, Online Poker, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 5:00 am

I wish I could tell you a sure­fire strat­egy to beat the online poker site’s new game.  But I can’t.  Not even close. I have no idea how to win in that game.  I think it starts with a raise and then I’m not sure where to go from there. Maybe a lit­tle patience might give you a leg up.  What do I know?  I’ve logged in for forty five min­utes and played more hands than my first six months of poker combined.

The thing that hit me most about Full Tilt’s Rush poker is how impor­tant it is not to look back.  In Rush, there is no way to see how the hand would’ve ended.  You’re whisked away to another table.  You have a new deci­sion to make. You don’t have time to think about what went right or wrong in the last hand.

Unlike reg­u­lar poker, in Rush there is no “What if?” because the hand really doesn’t exist any­more. There’s not even a way to see “What if?” Actu­ally, this is great, because if there ever were a shitty game, it’s  “What if?”   It’s a sub­tle vari­a­tion on the time­less clas­sic “Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve.” Actu­ally, it’s the same game with a dif­fer­ent title.  Kinda like play­ing NYC Monop­oly or Grate­ful Dead Monop­oly.  Same game, dif­fer­ent theme.

Now I’m not say­ing there isn’t a place for reflec­tion about your game or your life.  It’s essen­tial.  Just not at the table.

I always have to remem­ber to be in the moment at the poker table. That’s the only thing that mat­ters right now. Who cares if my KQ would have made a straight? Think­ing about it only dis­tracts me from the hand at hand. It’s a recipe to com­pound my losses or, if I’m bask­ing in the glory of an amaz­ing play, min­i­mize my wins.

So I’m going to keep play­ing Rush. Stay focused and try to avoid writ­ing blog posts while I’m doing it.  Because at  300 hands an hour, it’s damn near impossible.

I play poker to help me stay focused in the present.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 27, 2010

Poker Therapy

In ele­men­tary school I got beat up every­day by Jarett Moore. We were about the same size, but for some rea­son when he picked on me, I wouldn’t fight back.

Thirty years later the sense of shame for never fight­ing back is still pal­pa­ble. Actu­ally, it’s embar­rass­ing and haunt­ing. The only com­fort I have in these mem­o­ries is that by not fight­ing back I prob­a­bly avoided liv­ing my life with a limp. Had I some­how man­aged to level Jarett, his brother or one of his 57 cousins would have removed my head and shat down my throat. R.I.P.

After thirty years on the shrink’s couch, I have finally learned to stand up for myself, though some­times my tim­ing is bad. When­ever there is a bully at the poker table, I always have the same knee jerk reac­tion: you’re not going to push me around. This is great when I have the nuts, but when I am on a stone cold bluff and Joe Bully re-raises, this reac­tion is a recipe for disaster.

Prob­lem is, I never believe people’s bets. My ratio­nal brain thinks there is a chance I am beat, but my alli­ga­tor brain says, EAT THAT FISH. You see, I have this gift. With 99% accu­racy, I can mis­tak­enly think some­one is bul­ly­ing me when they are not.

I real­ize that the poker table is a very expen­sive and com­pletely unsym­pa­thetic place to work out my child­hood tur­moils. When I am feel­ing strong, I look for and attack the poor suck­ers who have the tell tale signs of being in poker ther­apy. And yet some nights my child­hood gets the bet­ter of me. I am the sucker and have a very expen­sive poker ther­apy session.

You’d think by now I would pick a new place to work this out, but I have come to terms with the fact that from time to time I will find sadis­tic com­fort in being picked on. I guess I am addicted to the rush of con­fronta­tion and the chal­lenge of stand­ing up to the bully. Even if the only per­son I am fight­ing with is myself.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 25, 2010

Like Dexter, I also have a “Dark Passenger.”

Filed under: Commerce Casino, Hollywood Park, Poker, Texas Hold'em, The Bike, WSOP, Winning Streak — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:00 am

I’m all in!”

I call!”

He shows me his straight. I muck my 2 pair in dis­gust. It’s not that I got out­played. That doesn’t piss me off too much. What DOES piss me off is when I make a solid game plan on the way to the casino, but when I get there, my dark pas­sen­ger takes over and the game plan goes out the door. It’s like I am two peo­ple. On the one hand, I am a respon­si­ble father and hus­band. Patient, cre­ative and fru­gal. On the other hand, I am an aggres­sive poker player — impa­tient, impul­sive and some­times reckless.

Okay, maybe my com­par­i­son to Dex­ter is an exag­ger­a­tion. After all, its been years since I hacked up some evil dude and threw his body parts in the ocean.

I have the same con­ver­sa­tion every time I go to the casino. “Today I am going to play tight. No fish­ing. Only play posi­tion. Fold draws when I don’t have the odds. Go home when I lose my edge. Don’t go on tilt when I get a bad beat. And most impor­tantly, FOLD WHEN I KNOW I AM BEAT!” I look in the mir­ror. Remind myself that I am in control.

Then I get to the casino, fast walk to the felt and plop down my chips and eagerly await my first Christ­mas present. 2 min­utes later, all my chips are in the mid­dle. 3 way action and I am on the nut flush draw on the flop. I almost have odds and con­vince myself this is a good spot to get it all in. 30 sec­onds later.….I am on tilt, call­ing for chips and ready to gam­ble. Just like that, enter my dark pas­sen­ger. It doesn’t take long until, I have lost my sec­ond buy-in. At this point, I look at my phone and real­ize I have been here for only 75 min­utes. Luck­ily the wall­pa­per on my iPhone is a pic­ture of my son. Instantly I snap back. My horns retract, my fangs retreat, my tail dis­ap­pears and I am myself again. I breath deeply and remind myself that I am not defined by my last hand of poker.

I am always sur­prised when my dark side comes out, but I have come to be grate­ful for him as well. I use him as a mea­sure for my per­sonal growth. The day I can take a beat­ing and shake it off will be the day I have made it to the next level of con­scious­ness. It may sound a bit meta­phys­i­cal, but that’s one of the rea­sons I play poker.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 24, 2010

Some things don’t go well together. Connectivity and sit-n-go bubble strategy come to mind.

Filed under: Bad Beats, Full Tilt Poker, Online Poker, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:00 am

There have been all sorts of things that keep me from play­ing my best poker online.   Mad at my boss.  Look­ing at too much porn. You get the picture.

Well, the other night was the first time my com­puter got the best of me.

I played a $24  + $2 Turbo 90 per­son tour­ney with a KO bonus of $4 per vic­tim.  What the hell?  Seemed like fun.

Well, It was fun until I started get­ting dis­con­nected every other hand.

Frus­trated, I tried to dump my chips with A2 under the gun but I spiked an ace and knocked out my oppo­nent. My first KO bonus. $4.  Cool.

I get dis­con­nected again.  And again. And again.

I recon­nect  and to my sur­prise I have aces and action.  Two guys are going all in.  It’s my turn to act.  My hand gets auto­mat­i­cally folded.

Fuck.

Fuck you com­puter!  They would have held up too.  I would be the chip leader by a fuck­ing mile.

I’m pissed. You have to take advan­tage of those spots.

We’re get­ting close to the bub­ble.  The guy I would have knocked out pushes.  He has me cov­ered.  I have KK. We’re really close to the bub­ble, what to do?

I don’t have to tell you what hap­pened .

Okay, I will. Out on the bubble.

I could’ve of waited, but I thought I was owed one because of those aces.  Where are my extra 40K in chips? I played like I had a rain check for a big win­ning hand.

It doesn’t work that way.  I let my com­puter put me on tilt. Sure, it sucked that I was hav­ing con­nec­tiv­ity issues.  But I should have to reminded myself that my strat­egy for the end of the tour­na­ment had noth­ing to do with my con­nec­tiv­ity issues.  Irra­tionally, I thought I had one in the bank. And I didn’t. Even though it felt good to blame my com­puter, it had noth­ing to do with why I lost that tournament.

I play poker is for the big scores.  It just eluded me last night.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

P.S. I played another one the next night and pulled a 4th.  I’ll take $200 in profit. Gotta love the KO Bounty pay­ing your buy in. No con­nec­tiv­ity issues either.

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January 23, 2010

Gung Ho or Don’t Go

Filed under: Online Poker, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:00 am

You can’t have ambiva­lence when you play poker. You are either gungho rock out with your cock out, or don’t play. Poker play­ers sense weak­ness. If you dis­play any soft­ness, they WILL eat your balls. Trust me, it hurts.

Some­times my fam­ily sched­ule opens up on a night when I am com­pletely tired. It cre­ates such con­flict for me. The uni­verse con­spires to give me a free night, I should rally the troops and seize the free time. How­ever, I don’t feel up for it. Herein lies the rub.

In truth, I can’t bear to pass the oppor­tu­nity to play cards, even if I’m exhausted. I sud­denly have the feel­ing that this will be the last time. If I don’t go now, I’ll never again expe­ri­ence the exhil­a­ra­tion of poker’s body drench­ing adren­a­line rush. (That sounds gay).

Nine times out of ten I go, and nine times out of nine, I lose. Not only that, I start off losing.

After 2 buy-ins, I buckle down. By 2AM, I have actu­ally ral­lied back to even. I con­sider leav­ing, but 2 things cross my mind. First, I hate the idea of play­ing poker for 6 hours and break­ing even. It sounds stu­pid, but I would rather lose than break even. At least I have some­thing to show for my time: an empty pocket. Sec­ond, if I leave now I will never ever in my whole life have the time, energy or means to come back. This will DEFINITELY be my last time ever play­ing poker. Since this IS my last time, might as well go out with a bang. A poker binge, if you will.

On these nights, I don’t leave until the absence of chips states the obvi­ous. Pal, you’re done. At 4AM, I am $400 poorer and ask myself why the fuck I even went in the first place. 3o min­utes later I am home. The moment I step through my front door, I won­der if I have any time next week­end to go back. Instantly I catch myself. What the fuck am I thinking?

If I wait until next week­end, life will get too com­pli­cated and I’ll never get there. Bet­ter go back tomorrow.

I play because I have the bug.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 22, 2010

Sometimes I need a break from Dockers and fat free salad dressing.

A man can not be sus­tained on good, whole­some fam­ily life alone.  Or, at least, I can’t.  On a reg­u­lar basis I like to head to my local casino, Hol­ly­wood Park.  It’s not just for the poker either. The place is a real melt­ing pot and I get to rub elbows with peo­ple from walks of life I may never have the chance to otherwise.

I know a lot of peo­ple that are alarm­ingly sim­i­lar.  CPAs, den­tists, and an ass­load of regional man­agers. As you might guess, this gets bor­ing.  The casino, on the other hand, is full of char­ac­ters that you would prob­a­bly would never meet any­where but the casino.

I love it.

Play­ing with peo­ple from all walks of life is what makes poker great.  I can’t think of a bet­ter com­mon denom­i­na­tor. I learn more about human­ity at the table than I would at a life­time of Neigh­bor­hood Watch meet­ings.  Okay fine, I don’t go to Neigh­bor­hood Watch meet­ings. That’s what regional man­agers are for. Where else can I hear from an ex-gangleader the way to make money is buy­ing fore­closed homes from HUD, Hous­ing Urban Devel­op­ment or some­thing like that.  Dude was a mil­lion­aire.   Or maybe he was lying.  Either way I don’t care.  I’m def­i­nitely not going to meet the rock tight porn direc­tor at one of these sushi rolling par­ties my wife tells me we’ve been invited to.  Actu­ally maybe I would.  But at the sushi party he’s not going into the details of the girl on girl scene gone bad because one of the actresses had some bad ceviche for lunch.

I play poker to meet peo­ple I nor­mally wouldn’t.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 20, 2010

Poker is a dream maker

Filed under: Bad Beats, Commerce Casino, Hollywood Park, Home Game, Poker — Tags: , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:00 am

At some point in your life, you have to let go of some of your child­hood dreams.  Still 5 foot 3? You can put your NBA dreams to rest. Still play­ing pony league in your 20s? Prob­a­bly won’t go to the MLB. Fail your med­ical boards for the 5th time? Surgery career out the door. Don’t get me wrong. I am fan of “any­thing is pos­si­ble”. I’m a poker player, right? But let’s get real, some­times you can tell things will never happen.

For me, I had a pretty good run as an inde­pen­dent musi­cal artist. I played for some pretty large crowds, basked in the glory of the stand­ing ova­tion and heard my music on TV, film and radio. How­ever, when I turned 30, I could see the writ­ing on the wall. I was never going to be a rock star. 10 years later, the only thing I miss is hav­ing that dream of being a star. Enter poker.

Poker is the dream that never dies. It doesn’t even dis­crim­i­nate. There are sharks of all ages sizes and shapes. 90 year old rocks, wheel chair bound chip slingers, and even the occa­sional blind man with a see­ing eye sweater. You try walk­ing into the Super Bowl all suited up demand­ing your shot. It’s not going to hap­pen. But if you have $10,000 or were lucky enough to suck out on me in one of the bajil­lion satel­lites I played to get into the WSOP, all the power to you. You’re in and get your chance to join the elite ranks of the poker greats. What’s even more entic­ing is that the vast major­ity of WSOP bracelets are won by unknown play­ers. It’s like Rocky every sum­mer in Vegas.

Most of us will never bat against C.C. Sabathia or catch a pass from Brette Favre. But for the rest of our lives, poker play­ers will have a chance to feel like a pro. If you’re   ballsy (and rich), I’m sure a vari­ety of pros from Doyle to Durr would be happy to meet you at Bobby’s room. Prob­a­bly at this very moment. Who knows, you might even beat them in a pot. If that’s big­ger than your poker bud­get, you can go for the glory by chas­ing a bracelet. It’s a more afford­able way to get the rush of play­ing with the pros. And if that isn’t enough, remem­ber you always have a chance to be the “lucky bas­tard” to put Phil Hell­muth on tilt. Poker is truly a dream maker.

I play to keep the big dream alive.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

For more about mak­ing it big in poker read the fol­low­ing article:

http://www.pokerdownloadlink.com/how-to-win-at-poker/

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January 18, 2010

The Host Gift

I finally get an invite to the home game I’ve been sub­tlety lob­by­ing to get into.

This is a group of the cool dad’s from my son’s pre-school. I casu­ally let them know I play poker, and then patiently wait to be invited into the inner cir­cle. It’s like dodge­ball in ele­men­tary school. I des­per­ately want to be included in the fun, but inevitably feel like the last one chosen.

Now that I have the invite, my next con­cern is what to bring for the host gift. This is after all, a friendly game. After too much delib­er­a­tion, I set­tle on a bot­tle of wine. Not the good stuff of course, I want to be gra­cious, not stu­pid. Does this make me a bad per­son? Prob­a­bly, but I’m just try­ing give the right gift for the right sit­u­a­tion. It’s like try­ing to read an oppo­nent. In this sit­u­a­tion I think the B minus wine is enough to drag in the pot.

I arrive at the game, offer my wine to the host and take my seat with other guys. Tonight is going to be good. I am def­i­nitely going to fit in here. Until I don’t.

The guys start com­ment­ing on the wine they are drink­ing. Tan­nin this, vel­vet that. Uh oh. My okay wine is now a tick­ing time bomb ready to expose me as Mr. Cheap. Now I know I am fucked.

I silently accept defeat. I was out­played at the wine game. No big­gie. Just like when I take a lick­ing at the poker table, I do some eval­u­a­tion, make some adjust­ments and try not to repeat the same mistakes.

Thank­fully, these guys aren’t nearly as judg­men­tal as I am. A cou­ple quips about my wine being sub-par, I’m off the hook. And the best news is that while these guys know wine, they don’t know shit about poker. But tonight, I don’t really care. I’m happy to just make new friends. It’s just gravy that these new friends will call a big raise with J8 in early posi­tion.

Even though the game is juicy, I’m just play­ing to make friends and drink (some­one else’s) good wine.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 17, 2010

Latin Ballroom or Pass the Trash

Filed under: Home Game, Poker, Texas Hold'em — Tags: , , , , , , — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:00 am

I’ve been mar­ried for 10 years, have 2 kids and almost no time to myself. If you count my inter­net porn babes as com­pany, then I do in fact have no time to myself. When I get a call to join a neighbor’s home game on a ran­dom Wednes­day night, I think to myself, “What would I rather do? Watch the finale of So You Think You Can Dance with my wife, or hang out with the guys smok­ing pot, telling lies and act­ing like a 15 year old.” Hmmmmmmmmm

I arrive at the game a bit giddy. This night is going to be fun. Buy in is $80 and it’s dealer’s choice. Every­one hates NLH at home games. It’s too slow, too restrictive…requires too much tal­ent! I know this going in. We are going to play games that are just a hair above roulette in skill level. Shit, I was going to be watch­ing Tiffany and Raj do the Latin Ball­room, even if I lose $80 at stu­pid games of chance, I’m a win­ner. I’ll gladly play 3 hours of “Pass The Trash” if I can escape the suf­fer­ing of a round of com­ments from the faggy danc­ing judges about how much Raj extended his arms dur­ing the pirou­ettes. Not that I have a prob­lem with gay or danc­ing. But really? Is this even a contest?

Tonight I am catch­ing bad cards. Cou­ple that with miss­ing some of the “sub­tleties” of Pass the Trash and I am thru my first buy in. It’s only 8:30. Raj is still doing pirou­ettes. RE-BUY!

At 9:07, my sec­ond buy-in is gone. Raj or chips? Raj or chips? Raj or chips? It’s a tough one, but at this point I need to acknowl­edge the grace and beauty of Raj’s danc­ing. He actu­ally does have a place in my life. When all the money is gone and there is absolutely noth­ing left to do, Raj is the answer.

I come home. My wife remarks that I am home early. Bad night. I take my place on the couch and man­age to show some enthu­si­asm when I ask, “Hey did I miss Raj and Tiffany?” “Nope“‘ she says, “just in time.” I force a smile and say, “Great! Can’t wait to see them really nail this Latin Ball­room.”

Some­times I play poker to post­pone the inevitable.

Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net

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January 15, 2010

Yes, it was very hot today.

Filed under: Ready To Post — Why Do I Play Poker? @ 4:53 pm

We’ve all been there.  You sit down at the poker table next to a guy
who has a com­ment about every­thing.  Some­one makes a rou­tine fold.
“Some­times you can’t fight ‘em.” he says.  No.  Some­times you can’t
fight ‘em.  He’s right.  He’s also going to ruin my night with this
bull­shit.   Usu­ally I try and be nice and humor him on the first few
com­ments.  I don’t want to be a total dick.

It’s good to get out” he says.  Christ dude.  You might as well just
say “I’m lonely”  or “I haven’t slept with a woman for years.”  That
would be inter­est­ing.  At least then I could find out why the med­i­cine
for the pso­rias isn’t work­ing.   Oh yeah, this guy is leav­ing
dis­gust­ing skin flakes on the felt every time he reaches for his
chips.  Which he never does because he is strat­egy is to bore every­one
into giv­ing him their chips.  With every skin fleck I”m reminded I
should’ve stayed home and played online.

What’s good on the menu?” he mut­ters.  Before I can say “I think the
pad-thai is okay” the iPod head­phones are on.

Loud.

Even thought this guy is harm­less, prob­a­bly even nice, he’s start­ing
to affect my game.  I’m spend­ing too much energy on tun­ing him out and
not enough on tun­ing into what the other play­ers are up to.  He’s
worse for my psy­che than a maniac on my left.  There’s only one thing
to do.

Table change please”

As I get up, the guy clue­lessly jokes, “Was it some­thing I said?”

No” I lied.

I’m sure the poor guy found some other unwill­ing sap to

talk to about the weather.

I usally play poker for inter­est­ing conversation.

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