I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up

I recently blew into Las Vegas for a few days of poker, and my mind was a jumble. My union, the Writers Guild of America, was on strike, and I'd been spending intense time on the picket line. Also, I was organizing last-minute details for a trip to Moscow (to teach comedy to the Russians – don't ask), and was yet unsure whether my passport could make it to San Francisco and back in time to get visa approval for the trip. This happens to have been my first serious stint of fullhanded cash-game poker in more than half a year (I'd been working in Romania, teaching them to be funny – again, don't ask). Most of my poker for most of the year had been shorthanded or heads-up sit-and-gos online. To top it all off, I'd just survived a false-positive cancer scare. Anyone want to guess how I played?



That's right, awful. I made every mistake you can think of – deadly mistakes in full ring-game no-limit hold'em. I played way too many hands, chased when the odds didn't warrant, tipped the strength of my monsters by overbetting, and ran suicide bluffs into massive made hands. I played without patience, discipline, or common sense. Even when I managed to string together a few hours of solid play, inevitably I would stumble into some reckless adventure, and Santa my stack off to the nearest good little girl or boy. Nor could I hide (as many players on a bad run will try to hide) behind the myth that the cards were running against me. The cards weren't against me. I was against me. I had pushed myself to the floor, and stood there with my foot on my own neck.



That's an odd image, I know, but it reflects the depth of my mental confusion. For reasons both known (a long layoff; cancer scare) and unknown (gawsh, them suited connectors sure look purty!), I had completely lost track of my poker game. I was, in short, a mess.



But I've been here before, many times before, just as any poker player of long experience has. Your game comes and goes. Your skills wax and wane. It's not all Sunday in the park with George around the green felt, so the question was, and is, when you've fallen and you can't get up, what the heck do you do next?



What follows is a list of the adjustments I made. Some of them are self-evident, like don't play garbage hands, and if this advice sounds simplistic, I apologize. However, when you're ailing from self-administered poison, simple remedies are called for. Hell, simple remedies are all you can handle. Here, then, are a few easy, and necessary, things to do when your game needs fixing fast:



DPGH: Don't play garbage hands. Obviously, obviously, obviously, just tighten up. Poker at its best is a combination of good cards and good play. When you can't manage good play, lean on good cards.



Drop Down: If you're getting killed, at least get killed slowly. Find a lower level where the price of poker is not so great that absorbing another loss will hurt very much. Since it will take you some time to right your ship, try to do this in shallow water. On a related point …



Be Patient: When you've dug yourself a deep hole, the temptation is to try to leap out in a single bound, either by pushing a rush too far or by playing in a game too big. Don't do this! Tell yourself that you will get well in time, but the first order of business is to rediscover your good, solid play.



Respect Position: I had trouble with this one during my skid, and playing mediocre cards from out of position just brutalized me. You can get away with a lot when you're playing well and feeling good, but you can't get away with much when your game lies in pieces on the ground. Again, if you can't manage good play, rely that much more heavily on good position.



Stop Bluffing: When you're stuck and desperate, you look like you're, well, stuck and desperate, so of course when you make big bluffs, they get read for what they are – big bluffs. Stop bluffing. Return to your simple, basic, ABC poker and wait for your game to heal. The best bluffs surf a wave of confidence and competence. If you don't currently have those things, you must necessarily wipe out on that wave.



Give Yourself a Break: It's easy to get down on yourself when you've lost your poker center. You can't figure out where your knowledge and skill went, and you kind of hate yourself for letting them run off. But that's no state of mind in which to begin recovery, so just let go of those feelings of negativity and remorse. Let yourself off the hook, in other words, or you'll never get back on the horse.



Be Honest: Regaining your poker equilibrium requires clear-eyed honesty. If you're running hopeless bluffs, chasing inane draws, playing too high, or going on tilt, you can fix these things, but only if you admit these things! Tell the truth about you to you. Yes, it may hurt, but also it will help.



Find Better Games: One of my favorite pieces of poker advice is this: Don't challenge strong players, challenge weak ones; that's what they're there for. Never is this more true than when you're playing poorly. Stop trying to break out of your slump against superior foes. Go find some bad players and punish them instead. This will do wonders for your confidence and your bankroll both.



Play Happy: If you're playing poker either for a living or for recreation, you're enjoying a privilege that most people in the world don't have. Cherish the privilege. Play happy, or just don't play. It has been said, "Success is enjoying your days." Purely enjoying your poker may be the way out of your slide, as well.



Remember the 20-Year Rule: If it won't matter in 20 years, it does not matter now. And trust me, the results of this week's poker play will not matter in 20 years. You won't even remember them then.



Take heart, my friends (or maybe I'm really just saying, "Take heart, JV"). Your good, solid poker game will return. You will once again be the winning player you once were. And then, at some point in the future, your game will drift away again. And then come back. Then drift away. And come back. Such is the nature of poker, and such is the nature of life. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some unfunny Russians waiting for me in Moscow. ♠



John Vorhaus is the author of the Killer Poker series of books. He resides in cyberspace at www.vorza.com.