One of the recurrent themes on Internet forums is live play versus online play. This was especially brought into focus when one of the darlings of the Internet set joined what was perhaps the biggest public no-limit hold'em and pot-limit Omaha game of all time, with blinds of $1,000-$2,000 and, unusually, no cap. (The biggest big-bet games in Vegas often "cap" how much you can lose in any one hand, normally in the region of $100,000-$200,000. This keeps the game in line with any limit games that may be in the mix, without having to change the size of the blinds.) As it happened, to coin a colloquialism, he "did his bollox," but this is beside the point. There are some real differences between online and live play, and whilst Internet guys get some of them, other important issues completely escape them.
One of the most common points raised is that online players, on average, are considerably better than their brick-and-mortar casino equivalents. This is so true, it is self-evident. But then what happens? The Internet player keeps shaking his head at the folly of his live foes and basically keeps on playing his self-same game, regardless of results. Post-World Series of Poker blogs were full of this phenomenon. A simple example will illustrate this. Since I devoted myself to online play, I have often found myself in a cash game with a 400 to 600 big blinds stack, facing others with the same. In fact, I am positively looking to get into these kinds of situations, in which, theoretically, I can put more of my "superior" skill into play. However, in many years of playing live, I almost never found myself in such a situation. Now, if you are used to either of these extremes, and you do not know how to adjust, you are going to find yourself in a world of disappointment and frustration. Just as a typical example, if part of your no-limit hold'em game is isolating weak limpers with weak hands of your own, you need to understand that a lot of this play is based on fold equity preflop - everyone passes and you win the blinds and limps - and fold equity on the flop - you get heads up, with position, and win regardless of what you hit. Guess what happens if no one passes your raise? A poker player should be flexible, and continually battering your head against the locked, barred, and sealed door of different game conditions will hurt in the very worst way - in your pocket.
Another area that baffles Internet players is cash-game etiquette. After a while, they realise that Hellmuth-like antics are not the way forward, but they still sometimes struggle with the ultimate precept for live cash players - you are in the entertainment business. If the weak players stop enjoying themselves, they will leave, sometimes permanently. And the opportunity cost of their donations is catastrophically lost forever. The higher the stakes, the more of a catastrophe this is, as willing pigeons are not easy to find. And, surprisingly or not, berating such players as they donk their way to defeat or victory is not how to keep them in the game. A smile, silence, or a genuinely bitterless quip is the way to go. Similarly, Internet players cannot get their heads around the fact that it is very rude to ask to see a losing hand. They argue that they have paid to see it, and this information gain contributed to that price. However, live players have developed complex rituals to replace the showdown, which I label the "talkdown." An amusing illustration occurred in a cash game I was playing in the late 1990s. The pot had bloated to a very respectable for the time $3,000 or so, and I was all in before the river versus the now infamous Ali Mallu. Ali, first to speak, initiated the talkdown instead of showing his pot-limit Omaha hand:
"Flush wins," he declared, as the river had brought a flush card. In true talkdown fashion, he was declaring the hand that he
could not beat, which if I tabled would win the pot and hence he would not have to show down his hand.
I rummaged through my six cards - those were gambling days - and shamefully I grimaced and twitched a silent no.
Some time passed.
"Straight wins?" queried Ali, uncertainly. There certainly were many straights now available, and I redoubled my efforts, whilst the railbirds wondered what on earth we had crashed our money in with on the turn.
Then, the penny dropped.
"This must be good then, Ali," I murmured as I showed my top set. Ali mucked and I never saw, nor asked, what he had. Now, what would be achieved by my asking to see this losing hand, which technically I was entitled to do. Well, I would gain information, although it could be argued that enough information was on show in both our play when the 12th nuts or so scoops such a large pot. Maybe the perceived rudeness will tilt my foe - and here I mean my foe in general, and not Ali in particular - and I will benefit accordingly. But maybe he will just leave. And maybe this is the straw that breaks the camel's back and he leaves for good.
There is a more immediate risk, which all good pros should respect, and thereby embrace the talkdown. He may turn over a winning hand he has missed! Now that would be expensive information, indeed.
David has played poker all over the UK for the better part of a decade. Originally a tournament player, now focused on cash play and almost entirely on the Internet for the last three years, David makes a healthy second income playing a wide range of games.
