Disassociating the Ego Part I: The Duel

To become a successful poker player, one must acquire the ability to completely and totally peel one's ego from oneself while at the table. You must become one within the game and let no part of your own psyche play a role in the decisions you make. Of course, it goes without saying that this is far easier said than done. We all know that the plays made while playing our game are based on cold information, both whole and partial. Pot odds, analysis of players' tendencies, and the motivations behind opponents' moves are a few things to be taken into consideration when arriving at a conclusion as to how to proceed in a hand. Far too often, though, I see, as well as commit myself, the sin of allowing ego to creep in and direct how a hand or several hands are played. In this series of columns, we will take a look at how ego can creep into our games, and how it can cause chips to creep out of our stacks.



Think about it. How often do you see a player begin playing so poorly that it is just silly to think he has any chance of winning whatsoever? It can occur when one player has been handing another player his hat, and in some cases his shoes, pants, and shirt, as well. This is often enough to completely knock the losing player off his game. Suddenly, it's a mano-a-mano situation for the loser, and he is willing to take the worst of it repeatedly just to get a chance to smack the winning player back – even just to get one baby smack.



I need look no further than myself to illustrate this point perfectly for you – so perfectly, it stings. It was in this year's World Series of Poker and I was about third in chips with around $23,000 as we entered the last hour of play before the dinner break of the $3,000 pot-limit hold'em event. I was feeling good, playing well, and knocking players out left and right. It was honestly a slaughter at our table, the "Table of Death," as we started calling it. There probably had been eight knockouts in the previous hour and a half or so leading up to my own funeral.



We found our battlefield repopulated with three new faces and the cards were back in the air. I was dealt the A K in middle position and was really beginning to think this was going to be my day. I brought it in normally with a raise and had one caller, the button. The flop came down spectacularly, A 8 6, I made my bet and was greeted with a raise from the button. I chose to just call, as my hand was so strong. I was quite sure I had another killer hand here and didn't want this player to get away easily. His obvious hand here was another ace, but with a worse kicker. The turn was the 3. I checked, my opponent bet, and I check-raised. He just called, and we moved along. The river delivered the 10, I bet, and my opponent just called. I flipped up my A-K and expected to rake in another pot, but I was rudely greeted by my foe's A10. Whop! I had been slapped down like Oliver asking for more food. "Please, sir, just a few more chips …"



I was disappointed to have been drawn out on so brutally, but hey, that's the game. I had no worries. I shook it off and we moved along.



Just two hands later, I looked down at the 9 9 on the button. There was a raise and two callers ahead of me, so I just called, hoping to flop a set and take down a nice pot. My wish was answered, and when the board was complete, it read K 9 5 3 10. There had been, predictably, a ton of action, and only my opponent from the previous hand and I were still standing at the end. I found myself having to call a worrisome raise on the river and almost jumped out of my chair when I was shown the 10 10, for a rivered higher set than mine! Aargh, this one burned badly! I had gone from about $23,000 in chips down to $9,000 in only two hands!



Now I was really angry, personally angry. Who was this guy sent to my table? He was single-handedly ending my ironclad grip on this group of players. I had them begging to be let out of hands with me, and he was making me look just like … like … any other player. It's not good to show chinks in the armor when you have been assassinating players for three hours straight. It tends to give hope back to those left alive. I had to do something. I had to get this chap back for all he had done to me.



What?! Sound ridiculous? It is! It's completely absurd. I wanted that guy, though. I wanted to slap him back, if only for the way he smiled at having sucked out on me. You know that kind of player, who rather than take his win and be silent about it, he wants to publicly celebrate it as if it had anything to do with his playing the hand well. At any rate, in my brain I had decided I needed to eradicate him.



Unfortunately, I had let this fellow get under my skin, and I had stopped playing poker. I had completely let my own ego take over and do the playing for me at this point. Man, this was a huger than huge sin at the tables.



Another round or so later, I picked up the 7 7 in the big blind and called this same player's raise from middle position, as did two other players. I'll tell you what happened next, but bear in mind – I'm not proud of it. The flop came down J 10 8, and I checked. The "evil" player bet out, and the other two players folded.



Here is where it gets good – er, bad. I check-raised for around $4,000 I believe. Say, what?! That's right. Dumber than dumb me in the big blind decided to make a move with a pair smaller than the board, basically a stone-cold bluff. Yeah, I was the man. I was going to beat this player back down a little. Oh, if it had only worked out that way.



I blame it on temporary insanity, or maybe just a fighter's mentality. Who knows? I guess I just decided that he had to be holding A-K, and I was going to take the pot away. The real truth was that I had let my own ego blind me, and had just made a hilariously amateurish move.



At any rate, he called, and the turn was the 6. I had to bet out again, and this time he moved me all in. I didn't see how I could fold, with so many chips in the pot, and such a high percentage of them being mine. Even though I knew that I had to be hopelessly behind, I sadly called. I was then shown pocket eights, a set for my opponent that put me woefully behind. Only a 9 would save me on the river, and it didn't drop.



I was out just like that, and was literally in shock for the rest of the night. I had fallen so far so fast that I thought you could actually see tracers from my seat heading out of the tournament area at the Rio. That is still the moment I think about when I reflect on the 2005 WSOP. I don't think about the two final tables that I made, but the chance that I blew at a third. And I blew it spectacularly, I might add. If you're gonna fail, you might as well do it in grand fashion, right?



I ran into Thor Hansen, who had been watching the hand from the sidelines, and he just shook his head and gave me the "What in the name of all the waffles at breakfast was that all about?" look. If only I had an answer for him. I had fallen into the trap of trying to play poker against only one other player at the table, instead of all eight. I was so consumed with getting back at this fellow that I got myself knocked right out of an event in which I was in a great position.



I drew my sword, lost the hand, and even managed to lose the duel in the process. Don't make that mistake. We all are at the table for the same reason: to completely destroy everyone else there. How absurd is it, then, to get angry when someone gets a few jabs in on you in the process? Ask yourself that question the next time you feel the need to try to get back at someone. Just go ahead and try to win the money. Let the losers try to win the duel.

Joe Sebok loves to receive questions and comments. You can reach him at [email protected], and can view all of his past columns at www.barrygreenstein.com under the "joepoker" link.