Poker is such a dynamic game that there's so much to learn from each session-- as soon as you think you have a grasp on the technical aspects of the game, you then realize how much there is to learn about yourself and the psychological effect that poker has on you.
H. Wasserman - The Cards Speak
It never seems to fail that when I hit a particularly rough poker patch or am peering 'round the next corner of my poker development, Hank appears with an illuminating post that sheds light on my confusion and/or despair du jour.
At the T-Bird I am forced to play the only limit game offered, which is 3/6 - equivalent to 1/2 online at best, the penny tables at worst. Rarely do I sit a game where, on average, less than 4 or 5 see the flop and isn't very passive. Since beginning to play there last April, a pattern has developed which, so far, has me at the advantage - I'm leaving a winner, more times than I leave a loser. However, I'm not leaving a winner as often as I think I should.
This past weekend was a particularly rough one. Friday, although a fun table with agreeable people, I struggled all evening to keep my head above water. There were too many suckouts to count, but I kept my cool and continued to play as disciplined a game I could. After about 5 hours, I was only down $40, but I was exhausted from swimming so hard against the current, so to speak. The fish were schooling and I was feeling a tad overwhelmed.
Saturday was no different, perhaps even worse. Duggle was there as witness and I think he'd concur it was a tough table of fish. The 8s was on an incredibly lucky roll, playing nearly every hand and managing to suck out pot after pot. Add to that the other 5 to 6 players in every hand and we had a textbook table for a demonstration of Morton's Theorem.
I was in the 3s and had several big hands in early position - I did not limp with these hands, I raised. In fact, if I was opening, I rarely limped. Very few of my hands held up because raising - even in early position - did not cull the field. This was also a fairly passive table (until the Intimidator arrived), so check-raising was not viable. These guys loved free cards - regardless of whether they made a hand or not, they'd check it around.
In other words, I had to play each hand I chose to get involved in under the assumption nearly all of the table was going with me to the river. Suckouts were inevitable. But, after a while and worn down, my discipline slipped and I played some piss poor poker, compounding my losses. Not long after saying to Duggle, "Oh, I never tilt anymore..." - I was on tilt. So, when the blinds came around, I took what few chips I had remaining and departed. I was down only $116 for the weekend, but it felt like my entire bankroll.
I steamed all the way home - I just didn't want to play that kind of poker any more. By the time I walked in the door, I was wondering if I really wanted to play poker any more - period.
Then comes Hank's post this morning and, subsequently, a re-read of his post regarding Morton's Theorem. If you haven't read it already, go, now, I'll be here when you get back.
Hank reminded me that I am still on a journey and that if I am to remain interested in this game, I must keep walking along the path and get past the obstacles. I'm not sure exactly at what stage I am - somewhere in Stage 2 with an occasional dip into Stage 3 might be accurate. Whatever stage it may be, I know I have a long road ahead and a lifetime of learning to do. That makes it interesting - the challenge and the journey.
I can bitch and moan about being schooled by the fish - who doesn't need to vent? But what I'm now interested in is finding a solution, finding the way around the problem that ends up benefiting me, that gets me further down the road. It's now my task to take those 2 sessions this weekend and learn from them. I'm not done with the T-Bird yet.
Thanks, Hank.
