Carrots and Sticks

Given the same cards in the same situations against the same players, and employing the same tactics, some poker players will realize more profit than others. As David Sklansky pointed out in a recent column, some people have a knack for inspiring poor play in their opponents. Demeanor, instinct, temperament … they all contribute to the mix. That's part of what makes poker so interesting – in no other game are so many social and psychological factors consistently in play.

In his February column "Changing the Math" (Vol. 14/No. 3) – a piece that should be pasted to the wall of every player looking to graduate from solid to good – Steve Badger makes the related point that some players, having developed the fairly rudimentary skill of spotting good bluffing situations, delude themselves into thinking that their work in this area is done, thus ignoring the far more important task of learning how to most effectively execute such bluffs. But as Badger points out, knowing when to make a move is of little use if you don't know how to pull it off.

Like it or not (and there's no point in not), people's decisions at the table are often colored by how they respond to each other, and those responses can be personal and emotionally charged. You can acknowledge that reality and find ways to use it to your advantage, or you can spend your days in the clouds, daydreaming about how people should play their hands against you. The second choice is easier, but the pay's low and the benefits stink.

Let's say you're in a hold'em game that's just started up, and the game's a little short. The cards go in the air, and on the very first hand, everyone folds to you on the button and you throw out a raise. The small blind looks at you as though you just shot his dog, and calls. The outcome of the hand isn't important; for the sake of this discussion, the only thing that matters is that at the showdown, the small blind turns over an unsuited 7-3. Now, obviously, you don't mind a bit when someone puts his money in against you with much the worst of it – with any luck, he'll keep it up all day – but you are a little curious as to what prompted the decision. Was it a reaction to what you did – or the way you did it?

On the face of it, calling a raise in that spot with such a pitiful holding would certainly seem to be an emotionally based decision – but prompted by what? A knee-jerk reaction to a perceived challenge? A protection of his small blind turf? A general resentment against short-field situational opportunism? Or, a specific dislike of you? These questions are worth considering, for knowing what he reacts to and how – what pushes his buttons, and what keeps him in his comfort zone – will factor into the timing of any moves you might attempt against him.

Suppose the motive behind his call is one of dislike. Does it stem from an incident between you, or is it one of those petty I'm sick of this guy winning every day, just who does he think he is kind of things? If it's the former, a peace gesture can often serve both a strategic and social purpose – carrots, after all, are more effective tools of manipulation than sticks. If, on the other hand, he simply envies or resents your success, you've got a choice to make. Negative tension can certainly lull people into mistakes, but, on the other hand, the friendly approach can make for a more pleasant experience while bearing fruit just as tasty. The fact that that there's a consistent level of success for him to resent means you're probably a pretty decent player, something your opponent, despite his animosity, may deep down grudgingly recognize. Many weak players covet approval; they secretly yearn to be in the "good players club." A well-timed compliment on their play, a sympathetic look when they're outdrawn, or a solicitation of their opinion can go a long way toward making them feel like charter members. Making a wanna-be feel like one of the pros is a bond that can yield high dividends, for once in the "club," such players often feel compelled to demonstrate their acumen, and are easily maneuvered into "smart" laydowns of which they know their new brethren will approve – as, indeed, you will.

Of course, you'll never be able to decipher the psychological motive behind every inane poker decision you encounter (most of them are unknown to the people who make them), and it would be folly to make the attempt. For one thing, your head would explode. But for all of their irrationality, the internal agendas of even the most emotional players tend to reveal themselves in consistent and discernible ways. Such tendencies cry out to be exploited, but learning how to do it is by no means an automatic process. It requires a lot of thought.

The last thing in the world a poker player should want is for his opponents to improve. Yet, how many times have you heard someone say, "I could win more if only these fools would play better!" It's a funny line when delivered tongue in cheek, with a twist of irony or self-effacement, but if you ever find yourself mouthing such a sentiment and taking yourself seriously, the time has come to sit yourself down for a little talk. And the first question you're going to want to ask yourself is this: If I truly believe that the key to my success resides in my opponents changing their play, is my job to moan about their failure to do so – or to learn how to guide them where I want them to go?

Many people spend their poker lifetimes consoling themselves over their losses by chalking them up to the deficiencies of their opponents. The lure of such a defense mechanism is understandable – not only does it shift the blame, it requires no effort whatsoever. If you're not content, however, to whine and moan about your opponents' terrible decisions, get to work and start figuring out how to maneuver them into "better" ones – the ones that are more profitable for you.