With a recent run of less than great results, a handful of min-cashes in my home game, a long string of early exits on Flatline and 6 straight HPC evening tournaments without a cash - I've found myself slipping back into my old ways.
Mixer, a good friend and poker confidante, has bested me at least a half dozen times live at showdown, as well as online in two memorable and crippling hands over the last couple of weeks. Most of these instances, and for sure the online hands, were him getting there on the river, despite my correct betting with the better hand.
Not that he played the hands wrong, he typically has had a gang of outs and gotten the right price to speculate when you consider implied odds. In most of these instances, I was leading the betting, he was calling down and then value bet heftily on fifth street, but not so hefty as to deny me irresistible pot odds. So I would pay him off and he would turn over the stone cold nuts again and again.
Especially frustrating because typically I would be well ahead and stood to drag a nice pot until the card from hell would hit and I would be stuck and forced to call when I knew I was beat.
So of late, from Mixer and also from others, notably d12, a spewy station (though a groovy person) and M00NWA1KER (a youngster who has some chops) had been getting the best of me at the river as well, seemingly with unlikely outs hitting. Most fun was getting it all in on a Jack high board with me having AA and he having AJ, one guess as to which card from hell hit on the river.
So I've been cracking under this run of bad variance.
Last Monday I was really genuinely pissed off at the poker table for the first time in a long time - I wasn't angry at other players whatsoever (there wasn't really any bad play from them to speak of, and even if there had been, I'm always in favor of players donking it up, results not withstanding) - I was mad at my seeming inability to fade the aforementioned hell cards.
Especially maddening, because I'm very happy with my game these days - I make very good reads, my lines of play are very well thought out and should (SHOULD) be working. To get bitch slapped over and over again as a reward for playing so well, is so fucking tiresome at times.
But I need to remember where I put that zen... I know it's around here somewhere.
There is a truism in poker, expressed by many professionals and wise amateurs, but probably most beautifully stated by Annie Duke in her bootcamps and now in her new book.
An inelegant paraphrase of this truism is that the main goal of poker is not to win money or pots, but to make the best decisions you can. The winning of money and pots only comes about as a result of pursuing this goal.
Greg Raymer has also echoed this - saying that as long as you are making correct decisions throughout your poker game, you cannot let results color your emotions, no matter how gut wrenching those results may be.
I get it, it's logical - but it sure can be hard to live by this credo.
So last night I was invited to a home game hosted by a regular in my game - it was a mix of his guys and mine; ten players, deepstack tournament, top three were to get paid.
So early on, with so many chips to play with, I was playing good and running good. C-betting my way to accumulation as well as floating and bluffing a bit against the right targets.
I was up, and then Mixer raised from the small blind against my big.
I had K8, which I knew was probably at or ahead of his range.
I flat called, the board came QxK. He c-bet less than half the pot and I flatted.
The turn was an 8. He checked, I bet half the pot. He called.
The turn was an Ace. Perfect, this was what I put him on.
He bet less than 1/3 of the pot, and I instantly knew what that meant from all those other river from hell showdowns.
He was strong. My middle two pair was probably no good.
I was getting almost 5 to 1. But what could he have to beat me? J10? Really?
That's all I was really worried about, but that was silly.
The flush draw didn't get there on the board - he had shut it down after the flop - Logic screamed that I was good, barring the gutterball from hell or some wonky higher two pair I suppose. A set was out, because he likes to fast play and would have kept leading on the turn with the flush draw out there.
I called fairly quickly, he insta rolled the nuts; broadway.
It was painful and I showed it; moaning and groaning a bit. Jack fucking 10.
I wasn't very mad at him, he did have a shitty flush draw to go with his open ended straight (yes, I consider the fourth best flush a shitty flush, wierd I know) and of course the 2 other aces and 4 nines for 15 outs total.
My turn bet gave him 3 to 1 to try and hit a roughly 3 to 1 draw, and he understandably took it. That's life.
Thankfully he didn't value bet me higher; I would hope I could have let my less than fantastic 2 pair go in the face of a potential truly crippling bet, but honestly I was so tilted when he dropped those chips in on the river (because I knew in my gut I was toast) that I very well may have stacked off.
Anyway, as I was saying, I pissed and moaned like a little bitch, with a few raised eyebrows firing off around the table as a result. I assured Mixer that I was only steamed at my bad luck, which was basically true - and went on to say that my frustration mostly stemmed from my aforementioned bad results over the last 2 months.
I gave examples, I grunted, I rolled my eyes, I sighed heavily.
What I needed to do was shut the fuck up.
Poker is a truly humbling game. Last night was a text book example of this.
I settled down and tightened up; I was slowly whittled down as the evening stretched on.
Then I was all in; I tripled up in a multi-way main pot with Jack high. Crazy.
I doubled up again when my AQ hit against a low pocket pair push.
I doubled up yet again in another race. Then again.
I was near the top in chips as the bubble approached, and I cranked up the aggression - getting better hands to fold in the face of not making the money after over 4 hours of play.
I didn't care too much - I was just incredibly lucky to be still around. I used this lack of fear to start running over the table.
Best of all, I finally faded a three outer against Mixer when my KQ held up against his QJ - AI PF.
In the end, the blinds were monstro, so I pushed for and got an even chop heads up when we had exchanged big swings of chips a few times.
$200 in my pocket, plus another $25 in bounties.
As I said, poker is a humbling game.
Though I was elated to have run and played so well, I also felt like a huge, world-class douche nozzle for my earlier grousing.
Mixer, God bless him, smiled and understood in the face of my heart felt shame.
I found my Zen.
It was just out of sight there, underneath my ego, which was also covering my once growing but now stunted and deprived humility.
I think the ego needs to be pushed aside and I need to let the sun and water have access to the humility and zen.
I'm better than a temper tantrum throwing Hellmuth, I know that.
I just need to remember last night from now on, and resolve to do better.
