Listen to the Voice

Midway through a hellish tournament at the Jack Binion World Poker Open in Tunica, I decided to get the hell out of Dodge. The urge came strongly and suddenly. I had lost about a fourth of my nominal $50,000 bankroll in the first two weeks of the year. That's not a good pace, obviously. I've got a long way to go to just survive the year with any bankroll left. The goal is to make money. Hmm. Re-evaluation might be needed.

I lost $2,800 in live play in a fevered last-day attempt to recoup some money in Tunica. There's definitely $1,200 in there that went on a crying call made out of frustration, but the rest was almost unavoidable. But, you can't make a living at this game if you're going to throw away $1,200, ever. I can't afford tilt.

Back home, I started to slowly and surely chip away at my deficit. I mostly play in a $5-$5 pot-limit hold'em game. I booked four nice wins in a row upon my return, including one very satisfying $3,500 session. After that night, I had recouped almost half of what I had lost in Tunica. Things were looking good for a quick comeback, but then the reality of poker intruded.

Two nights later, after losing $1,000 on the first hand of the night (I flopped a set of nines, and my opponent flopped a set of aces), I spent eight hours digging out to only $100 down. I felt good about patiently rebuilding, although I was annoyed that I hadn't found a way to save some money on the set-over-set situation. An inner voice had told me to check behind him on the end. I ignored it and got check-raised. My opponent was all in. I'm less annoyed about the final call, as there was a lot of money in the pot relative to the amount of the call. But, I should have listened to the voice.

That morning, I remember thinking that my comeback was going smoothly, but curiously, I hadn't weathered any beats. That ended on the last hand of the night. I called $30 from late position with the 8 6. The flipper came 9-7-4 rainbow. The raiser put in $100, I called, and so did another player. The turn was a 10, giving me the second-nut straight and putting two clubs on the board. The original raiser put in $350 or so. I raised the maximum, which was something like $1,000 more. I wanted to make it very, very expensive for any draw to stay in. The third player folded. The first guy started thinking. I knew I had to be winning by a lot, and I started praying for a call. Be careful what you wish for. He raised me another $150 or so all in, making it about $1,650 each in the middle. He had made a set of tens on the turn. We agreed to run the river three times, and each one paired the board: 4, 4, 7.

I was upset when the first 4 fell; I didn't want to give up a third of my pot. By the third time, I already had my coat on. I quietly walked into the night.

That is poker. You can't possibly play this game for a living and not face that situation, but you have to handle it. I can tell you that I wasn't mad then and I'm not mad now. That is how this game works, and how it has to work.

I was counting on that $3,500 showing up in my bankroll, but it's not there.

Here's an interesting situation from a $5-$5 pot-limit hold'em game. I raised to $30 with K-K in what would surely be one of the last hands of the night. My best friend at the table reraised to $60 from one of the blinds. Hmm. I reraised him the maximum, about $125 more (as always, all figures are approximate, because I can't remember exactly). He just called. I put him on queens. I know him well, and thought he would reraise with A-A here, especially since it was the end of the night. He wouldn't want to get cute and go home broke from slow-playing aces.

The flop came A-A-5. He quickly bet the pot, which was more than $400. This was a tough spot. I had about $5,000 in front of me, and he appeared to have almost $3,000 in front of him. I was going to have to put in all of his money to find out if my read of Q-Q was correct. I went into the tank for a bit. Then, as I loaded up my pot-sized call and got ready to put it in, my buddy said, "You're losing."

Now, this is my buddy. We have something of an unwritten, unspoken agreement to play each other very, very hard. But, we wouldn't lie and tell the other he was beaten, or say anything else out loud to manipulate the other - at least I didn't think we would, especially with two big stacks on the last hand of the night. I asked him to show me a card to prove I was beat. He wouldn't, and I didn't blame him. I folded and turned over my K-K - and he showed K-K, as well.

I was angry. I contended that saying "You're losing," without holding an ace was something of an angle. I believed that he thought his hand was good, but I had loaded up my chips to at least call; he had seen that, hadn't he? It turns out that he had put me on queens, too.

I made him give me $195, or whatever the total preflop bet was, in the car. We chalked it up to an unintentional angle. I wouldn't have had any problem if I had called the flop and he had check-raised me on the turn or done any other type of betting to win the pot. I probably would have folded. Conversely, he wouldn't have had any problem with my betting or raising to take the pot away from him. It was the words "You're losing" that bothered me. I'm still not sure about this situation.

Performance Update Through

Mid-February

Bankroll on Jan. 1, 2003: $50,000

Bankroll on Feb. 13, 2003: $38,500