Decisions, Decisions

Not long ago, I overheard an exchange at the poker table between a consistent winner and a young would-be protégé, the conclusion of which was so succinct and on the money that I can recall it almost verbatim. The winning player (we'll call him WP) displayed all the usual attributes of poker success - discipline, observational skills, creativity, and so on - but while these qualities were not lost on the beginner, what really fascinated him was WP's complete unflappability. Nothing ever seemed to faze him, and it was clear by the young man's persistent questions that he simply didn't understand how on earth one was supposed to bring this sort of emotional detachment to an activity that was, to him, an endless ride on an emotional roller coaster.

The conversation was actually pretty one-sided, consisting mostly of vague questions from the young man and bemused looks from WP, until finally the young man came out with a real lollapalooza: "OK, enough beating around the bush," he said, "what's the secret to this stupid game?"

Putting him on a joke, WP threw him a courtesy chuckle, but the young man wasn't joking, and the look he proceeded to fix on his appointed mentor made it clear the question wasn't rhetorical, and he wouldn't be satisfied until he got an answer. After something of an awkward pause, WP regarded him and said, "You're serious."

"Dead serious," the young man said. "What's the secret to poker?"

WP thought for a moment, then shrugged and said, "Good decisions."

"OK," said the younger man, "and how do you learn to make good decisions?"

"Experience."

"All right," the young man said impatiently. "Define experience."

"That's easy," WP said with a smile. "Bad decisions."

Although we all start off as green as the grass at Yankee Stadium, poker players eventually split off into two types: those who are capable of learning from their bad decisions, and those who endlessly repeat them. The latter are generally governed by their emotions; they're more interested in the moment than in the money. The former, by contrast, opt for the "big picture" approach, acknowledging the reality of emotional responses while remaining ever mindful that at the end of the day (and the month and the year), the failure to successfully deal with those responses inevitably drains the bankroll - which is an emotionally unsatisfying experience if ever there was one.

But enough generalities; let's put this into real terms. Here's a common example of a specific emotion-driven mistake that some players make time and time again. Although it's not a whopper - it costs only one bet - it can indicate an overall table approach that relies too much on the heart and not enough on the head.

Let's suppose that you've raised before the flop and gotten heads up with a good player who check-raises you on the turn when a scare card hits the board, in the form of a third suited card. Let's also suppose that you've taken some nasty beats in the last few minutes, and your stomach's churning. Furthermore, let's suppose that the character of the board makes two pair extremely unlikely, and that there is no ace or king. Finally, let us suppose that you're perfectly aware that the check-raiser may simply be trying to muscle an opponent who's running badly, figuring it was big slick you raised with preflop and that if he shows strength in the face of a trouble board, you'll have nowhere to go but the nearest exit.

With that in mind, let's suppose that you do, in fact, have something - top pair on board, say, or a pocket overpair - and you're not about to lay it down against a possible steal. As to your opponent, there are three likely possibilities: (1) he's bluffing; (2) he's semibluffing; or (3) he has a big hand, in the form of an overpair, a set, or the flush. (A fourth possibility, that he has the same hand that you do, is essentially irrelevant to this discussion.) So, here comes the river, and it's a total blank, which offers you hope, for if your opponent was bluffing or semibluffing, you've got him. On the other hand, his hand may already be made - heaven knows, everyone else seems to have hit their draws against you - but snakebitten though you may be, you're also determined not to be pushed around. In any event, the thing you want most at this very moment is to show down your hand without having to call another bet, so when the river hits and your opponent reaches for his chips, you instinctively try to discourage him by splashing the pot with an out-of-turn "call" - thus sending the message that if it's a bluff he's on, the time has come to give it up. You've got something, darn it all, and it's a hand off which you're not going to be moved.

Unfortunately for you, not only is this ploy a bit of a cheap angle, it's also a self-defeating one; in fact, it's one of the silliest mistakes you can make at a poker table. Since you're clearly powerless to discourage a bet when your opponent holds the big hand you fear, saving a bet on those occasions is simply not a possibility. The only bet your pre-emptive move can discourage is a bluff bet, in which case all your "show of strength" accomplishes is to cost you one big bet. As silly as this mistake is, I've seen otherwise solid players actually congratulate themselves for it on occasions that saw them stacking the chips. The only explanation I can come up with is that the relief of getting back on the "winning track" was so great, it caused them to mistakenly associate a self-defeating strategy with an unrelated happy outcome, overlooking the fact that the outcome wasn't quite as happy as it should have been. This raises an interesting point, namely, that even though it's "negative" emotions that often cause mistakes, so-called "positive" emotions can sometimes get in the way of recognizing and correcting them - as anyone whose hot rush of cards produced a euphoric abandon that made them crash and burn can readily attest.

To think you can save a bet that's beyond saving is to be seduced by a mirage, but under stressful circumstances, a mirage can seem all too real. In the heat of battle, reacting is a far more natural … well, reaction than cool, clear decision-making. That's why one of the most important decisions a poker player can make is to commit to doing "advance" work - analyzing scenarios away from the table so that in the heat of battle, he has strategic responses upon which to call, strategic responses that have already been clearly thought through.