I Shall Be Telling This With a Sigh

At the time of writing, my poker year-end is fast approaching. And what a year it has been. Although I have very rarely been what you would term a "professional," I have always been more than "pro" in my record keeping; and this has been one of my worst years since records began. Now before you cry too many tears, I have still made a profit, just about half that of my "typical" year and only a fraction of my uber-year of 2006. In fact, I have had only one losing year in over a decade, which was in itself a pretty trivial amount, and considering that was pre-Internet, I was probably playing only 30-50 sessions a year, and most of them included, gulp, donkaments.

So, what lessons can be learned from my fall from grace? Or, more importantly, what lessons can you learn?

The Value of Shares Can Fall as Well as Rise
Readers who have just recently started playing will not have any idea of what they have missed. The change is so dramatic between "then" and "now," it is as if aliens came down to earth after World War II and wondered why so many humans lived in mostly flat rubble. For the 18 months prior to the USA closing its doors on Internet gambling, we experienced the greatest boom time in poker in living memory, if not in its entire history. Nowhere was this more true than the Internet, where wave after wave of inexperienced players with plump pockets and little skill built into a tsunami of easy cash, especially, inexplicably, bizarrely, in games that were historically very bad for new players, such as no-limit hold'em, and even the black albatross of doom for the inexperienced, pot-limit Omaha eight-or-better.

It was absolutely standard for me to log onto the Cryptologic network at the $5-$10 no-limit hold'em level and see a dozen games or more, most of which with at least one soft spot. Pot-limit Omaha eight-or-better, previously an impossible rock-fest at any level above $3-$6, was now generating three or four ridiculously easy games at the $10-$20 level on Party, filling the coffers of several poker specialists. Post-Unlawful Internet Gambling Enforcement Act (UIGEA) sanction, several of the networks basically collapsed in terms of volume, leaving only the tyros and experienced grifters, and a much, much smaller table selection. The games got harder and, in some cases, basically disappeared altogether.

The peak of that Omaha game I described was just that, a very temporary peak, and "normal service" was soon resumed. In my case, six-max no-limit hold'em went from being an easy option to one in which winning, whilst still possible, was much, much harder - and not much fun. A lot of professional players have simply imploded since the new conditions kicked in.
The future is not always bright and certainly not always orange.

Hearing, but Not Listening
I have always been a technical player in terms of analysing my game and calculating the various odds and outs. I used tracking software before it was popular; in fact, before more than a handful of players knew it even existed. I have spreadsheets that would make a statistician blush; and before all of these, straightforward pen and paper. Information is not my problem. Listening to what that information has to say to me is my problem. Many times, if I had not been so stubborn, I could have avoided playing in games or repeating certain situations that were costing me money. Analysis is fine, but useless if you don't heed the results.

You Don't Turn Off a Machine That Prints Money
I used to have a poker-playing friend who had that as kind of his catch phrase. Its corollary is even more important. You don't dismantle and sell for spare parts the machine that prints money. Last year I won a lot of money, especially considering that I am a working Joe. How did I invest this money? Did I establish a factory of money presses, printing greenbacks 24/7, securing my poker playing for the future? No, I frittered it away on the high life, instead.

So this year, when times were harder and I was forced to dismantle the money printing machinery for an unexpected real-life expense, I had no backup. I was compelled to play much smaller stakes or risk going busto with my already trivial online bankroll. Playing small, when you have played big, is very, very challenging, and can cause a vicious cycle in which disrespect for the stakes gives rise to poor play. This, in turn, leads to worse results than expected, certainly for a player who, having played higher, would expect to crush the smaller game - leading to less respect for the stakes. Wash, rinse, repeat. Building a bankroll is an achievement in itself; don't fritter it away needlessly.

Here's to a happy and prosperous new year!