Sign Up For Card Player's Newsletter And Free Bi-Monthly Online Magazine

BEST DAILY FANTASY SPORTS BONUSES

Poker Training

Newsletter and Magazine

Sign Up

Find Your Local

Card Room

 

Some Days, You Just Shouldn't Play

Learn to recognize them, and protect your resources for another day

by Roy Cooke |  Published: Nov 28, 2006

Print-icon
 

Some days are better than others. I was having one of those "other" days. I wasn't sick, but I felt a little sluggish mentally. It was a biochemical thing, I guess, as are more of our mental states than we'd like to admit. One of the demanding things about playing middle-limit poker for a living is that you need to consistently perform well day in and day out. One bad performance can destroy a lot of hard work.

I thought about skipping the session, feeling my performance would be off. But it was Saturday night - which is always a good poker night in Vegas - and I wanted to play. Even at less than my best, I thought I could play well enough to have an edge against the weekend fields at Bellagio. In those situations, I just make more of an effort to maintain my focus, and maybe play my cards a little closer to the vest and try to think things through a little more. Of all the times I have played when I did not feel I would be at my best, I have still beaten the game, but there is no question that my edge and hourly rate were much lower on those days than on days when I felt mentally sharp and in tune with myself.

The fact is, I still love to play after all of these years, and I don't miss many Vegas Saturday nights. So, I went in.

I was a couple of hours into my $30-$60 limit hold'em session, was playing bad cards badly, and was stuck a small amount - probably less than I deserved to be. The game was good, but not great. I had another cup of coffee, thinking the caffeine would help stimulate my brain into some good thoughts. But, then again, my thinking was off.



Bert, a local amateur player who plays a pretty good game of poker, raised from up front. Two players called his raise cold (one was a very loose-playing tourist) and it was up to me, holding the Aspade10spade. That type of hand often presents a tough situation when a solid player is raising from up front. You don't want to play a hand that is dominated, and a solid player raising from up front is likely to have an A-10 in trouble.

That said, I had a nut-flush draw, and the two players calling gave me both a better current price on my hand and an opportunity to get action from them if I made a big hand. I called the two bets, hoping to get additional action from the blinds, giving me an even better price on my hand. If you think your holding needs to make a big hand to win or has a good chance to make a big hand and you are not likely to play your opponent(s) out of the pot, letting other players into the pot in order to increase the price the pot is laying you is generally the correct play.

Both blinds called Bert's raise and we took the flop off sixhanded - which was an OK spot for me. The flop came down Aheart 3heart 2club, putting a two-flush in hearts on the board. Both blinds checked to Bert, who fired $30 into the pot. Both players in front of me tossed their hands into the muck.

Now, I had a dilemma. I wasn't confident of the value of my holding. Bert raising from up front and betting into the field likely meant that he had an ace, and if he had an ace, it was very likely with a better kicker than mine. That said, Bert has some play in him, and will play hands in unconventional ways in order to deceive his opponents. Was he making such a play in this situation? Would he bet a hand like two jacks into the field? I did not know, but the pot was big enough that I didn't want to make a mistake and fold a winner. Laying down winners in large pots is very costly in terms of edge. I raised, looking to protect my hand if it was good, and also to see Bert's reaction to my raise. The two blinds folded behind me, and Bert called quickly.

The dealer turned the 8club. Bert checked to me, and I thought about my best move. If he held an ace with a better kicker, he was check-raising me. If he held a wired pair, giving him a free card wasn't giving up much in the way of edge, as he had only two cards to catch to win.

Nonetheless, giving an opponent(s) a free card in a situation in which he would fold to a bet is never a good option, unless competing issues tilt the decision in favor of checking. In this spot, I thought one of two things could happen if I bet: I could get check-raised, or Bert would fold. I could get check-raised by a better hand, or I could get check-raised as a bluff, which would put me in a precarious spot.

If I check in those spots, sometimes an opponent who would fold a wired pair on the turn will pay off the river unimproved. That gains back some of the equity lost by checking a hand that your opponent would have folded to a bet and then drew out on you when you checked. I chose to check, making the play that would get me to the river. I was not sure of what I would do on the river, but at least I knew that by checking, I would get there!

The river brought the 6heart, completing the possible flush. Bert checked to me once again. My first thought was that he had a wired pair, worse than aces. I fired $60 into the pot, hoping to get the "weak" call from the wired pair.

When analyzing whether to bet from last position on the river, you need to be able to read the range of hands that your opponent may hold and be able to beat the majority of the hands with which your opponent will call. Other factors come into play, such as the likelihood that your opponent will check-raise or raise-bluff. If those factors are present, you should increase your propensity to check.

As I released my chips, I knew I had screwed up. I had raised the flop and checked the turn, as I often do with a drawing hand. Bert somewhat knows my potential betting patterns; he would read me for perhaps drawing to the flush and therefore check-call with A-K on the river.

I have written often of my tendency, when deciding on a play, to look for a better one. In my less-than-best frame of mind, I hadn't even tried. I had lost my focus for a moment and not thought through the situation deeply enough to make the correct read on his likely range of hands, and make the correct decision. When making poker decisions, you need to think about what your opponent is thinking. If you can learn to read your opponent's mind, you will crush him at the table. And if you're not thinking clearly about what he's thinking, he's likely to crush you!

In this situation, Bert would call me with more hands that beat me than I could beat, making betting absolutely the incorrect play. I'm supposed to know that. Most nights, I do.

Bert tossed $60 into the pot and I reluctantly showed my hand, embarrassed that I bet when knowing that it was no good. Bert showed the A-K, and gave me a well-deserved "Are you stupid?" look.

I continued playing for a while and made a couple of other equally bad mistakes - paying off when I should have known I was beat, and not making the correct read or play in a couple of situations that cost me bets, which a player of my caliber should not do. To add insult to injury, the cards were not going in my favor, either. It really sucks when you play badly and run badly, too! Disgusted with myself, I got up from the table and took my few remaining chips to the cashier.

Some days, I just don't have it. Either I am distracted by other events in my life, tired, or just not having a high mental-performance day. When that happens and I am trying to play through it but not succeeding, I get up. Knowing when to surrender and still have chips to fight another day can be a key component of your playing career.

When you don't have it and aren't getting it … well, some days, you just shouldn't play. Learn to recognize them, and protect your resources for another day. spade

Roy Cooke has played winning professional poker since 1972. He is a successful real estate broker/salesperson in Las Vegas. His books are available at www.conjelco.com/cooke. His longtime collaborator, John Bond, is a freelance writer in South Florida.