Some Thoughts on the Inner Game, Who is Better Wired for Success at Poker - an Introvert or an Extrovert?

Many different emotions can come into play while playing cards, and dealing with them is a tricky business. Emotions, after all, are a kind of experiential shorthand; they are the instantaneous, directly felt equivalents of the more formal cognitive process by which we arrive at our opinions and conclusions. As such, the emotions we experience are typically the result of the thinking we have done – or have failed to do. If an individual has an irrational, undisciplined mind, or is prone to superstitious beliefs, his emotions likewise will be chaotic. An individual who proceeds from more rational, integrated premises will experience emotions more appropriate to reality. But in either case, the emotions themselves are gut feelings, and can be experienced so intensely as to cloud the judgment of the most levelheaded individual, at least momentarily. And in poker, even the most momentary of lapses can be quite costly.



Recently, someone at my local casino posed the following question: "Who is better wired for success at poker – an introvert or an extrovert?" The subject was prompted by a feature being shown on a nearby television about the psychological profiling of professional athletes. It's an interesting question, given that the profiling of one's opponents is a task poker players perform regularly, even if they tend not to think of it quite so clinically. It's also a question that got me thinking about poker in expressly psychological terms.



As human beings, we come equipped with an inner self. In fact, we are inhabited by quite a number of inner selves, and many of them interact. Psychologists will tell you that each of us carries around a masculine self and a feminine self, an inner adult and an inner child, an ego (conscious), an id (subconscious), and a superego. These various entities can peacefully coexist or be locked in abiding conflict; often, there's an ongoing, uneasy truce in effect. (Many poker players are all too familiar with the phenomenon of split personality, having glimpsed their own inner Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.) We think with our heads, feel with our hearts, and then struggle to determine which organ to heed. We even come right-brained and left-brained, although one reader who disagreed with a column I wrote about rabbit-hunting insisted that I must be harebrained.



At the poker table, our psychological complexities lead us to many questions, and some of them are directed at this assorted inner family. We engage in an inner monologue – or is it actually a dialogue? Hmm, let's ponder that for a moment. When you find yourself at the crossroads of a decision – any decision, in poker or in life, whether big or small, weighty or trivial – and you ask yourself what "you" should do, who the heck are you talking to? Supposedly, you are only one person, yet one of your inner selves has framed that question and submitted it to another – as if questioner and respondent were two separate beings, the latter possessing knowledge desired by the former. Yes, sir, we are creatures of duality, but enough already with the psychobabble. After all, we're poker players, and we didn't come here to talk about Freud, right? Heck no, we came to play some cards, man – hey, dealer, I said deal me in!



But when we engage in any activity, we bring the whole package. We are who we are; we bring our hopes and goals to the table, as well as our doubts and fears – and an intricate set of defenses to manage them. Throw in a compulsion or two that most of us aren't even aware of, and what it adds up to is that we all have some baggage. (If we're lucky, it's just carry-on – and will fit tidily under the seat or in the overhead compartment…)



But let's get back to the question at hand. There is, of course, no such thing as an absolute introvert or extrovert. If there were, the former would never be able to find his car, and the latter wouldn't remember the name on his drivers license. The inclination to focus one's attention inwardly or outwardly is a matter of extent; everyone does both, but the introvert's awareness is directed primarily inward, while the extrovert is busier watching the world. Since success in poker, as in most things, can be achieved through different approaches, it follows that both psychological types bring respective strengths and weaknesses to their games.



Since the rational introvert tends to be quite self-aware, he possesses a great capacity to manage his own game. He is capable of developing techniques that aid him in avoiding emotional or psychological traps, and is also capable of summoning an ironclad self-discipline. On the downside, his self-possession can make it difficult at times to fathom that other people might think quite differently than he does, which in turn can lead to a fixation on what his opponents "should" be thinking instead of what they are thinking. The good news is that he has a redraw, for the same self-awareness that can lead him into this trouble helps him recognize his own shortcomings, which affords him the opportunity to adjust.



The extrovert, on the plus side, has no entourage of inner railbirds distracting him during the heat of battle. Since his attention is focused predominantly on what is happening around him, he tends to perceive situations with fewer preconceived biases. Thus, he brings a free-flowing creativity to the game that is spontaneous and natural; it doesn't have to be manufactured. And although he might not manage himself quite as effectively as the introvert, he makes up for it by managing his opponents. The extrovert also tends to have an open, outgoing personality that makes his opponents feel at ease, which enables him to observe and study them without them feeling like they're being observed and studied. On the downside, while many extroverts are disciplined enough not to tilt, I don't believe they pick up the signs of semitilt as quickly as their more introverted counterparts. Tilt, after all, has degrees. We can be fully in command or tilting full-throttle, but most of the time we're somewhere in between. Since self-control exists in a continuum, we sometimes lose control of it in tiny, incremental steps, and the loss can be virtually imperceptible.



The loss of money can most certainly be measured, and I believe the introvert is better equipped to notice those subtle, initial gradations at semitilt's entrance ramp, enabling him to avoid getting on that road at all.



The next time you sit down in a new game and begin sizing up your fellow players, instead of thinking in terms such as rock, maniac, solid, loose, and so on, try to determine whether they're introverts or extroverts, and see where your perceptions lead you. You just might stumble onto a fresh insight or two. For you introverts (and you know who you are), this approach will help you expand your outlook. And if you're an extrovert, take a moment to let something you observe in others expand your inlook. Although basic wiring can't be changed, a slight shift in directional focus can help anyone attain better balance.