Emotional Intelligence

I'm in Moscow right now, in the first week of a six-month stint of running the writing staff of the Russian version of Married With Children. Jet lag has me in its nefarious grip, so I'm wide awake and channel surfing at 4 o'clock in the morning. I just came across a broadcast of some past poker tournament, and found myself listening to Irish pro Andy Black describing quite candidly his tendency to blow up in poker tournaments, and the steps he takes to block that. What he's really talking about is something called emotional intelligence, and since it's 4 in the morning and I have nothing better to do, it's what I'd like to talk about, too.

At first blush, emotional intelligence would seem to be an oxymoron, like organized chaos or forgettable memory. After all, intelligence is about the intellect and emotion is about the gut. But to be a successful poker player, you have to be able to use your intellect to monitor your gut. Emotional intelligence, then, is awareness of your awareness. A poker player with high emotional intelligence is able to assess his strengths and weaknesses frankly and honestly, with acceptance, and without freaking out. (Emotional intelligence extends to your other-awareness, too; reads, in other words, but that's a discussion for another time.) To help you test your emotional intelligence, I'm going to present you with a few poker situations and ask you two questions:

Has this ever been you? How did you feel at the time?

There's no sliding scale to this quiz; no answer sheet; no grades. To pass the test, all you have to do is take it - but really take it. Think long and hard about whether these situations have applied to you. If not, more power to you. But if I'm shining a light on something you've done once or twice (or more), I would ask you to use this as an opportunity to deepen your awareness of your awareness. Do this without judgment and without guilt, for we fix our errors first by accepting them. Just ask Andy Black.

Situation One: You've been playing online poker for several hours in a multitable tournament, and things have not been going your way. You took more rebuys than you wanted to, and never built a stack. Unable to gain any sort of traction in the tournament, you ultimately busted out, not on a bad beat but on a very bad decision. Now it's late, and you're mentally exhausted. You know you're not on your game, but the sting of defeat still owns you, so you jump into a sit-and-go tournament or a cash game and proceed to double or triple your losses.

Situation Two: You're in a cash game and running well. You've been getting hit by the deck and enjoying a major rush. You feel high, like you're invincible. Not only do you want the feeling to last forever, you're convinced it can. Like a golfer who has finally found the sweet spot in his swing, you believe that you have poker "solved." So you push every small edge - or sometimes not even any edge at all - and end up giving back most of what you won.

Situation Three: You're playing against a foe you know to be inferior. He makes manifestly bad decisions, and you can't see any reason why you're not taking all of his money. Yet, you're not. Luckbox that he is, he keeps sucking out on you and winning pot after pot. The more you play against him, the angrier you get, until your primary motivation for playing is not to win money, but just to make the lousy luckbox pay.

Situation Four: You're in a poker game and you're stuck. You're beyond tilt, yet you can't tear yourself away from the game. There seems to be a supernatural force (some call it chair glue) keeping you in your seat. Earlier, you thought you'd just keep playing until you got well, but you're past that point now. You probably won't leave till you go broke.

Situation Five: You hadn't intended to play poker at all. You had other things to do, either at home on your computer or out there in the world, but something propelled you into the game. Maybe you weighed the choice between playing poker and doing anything else; maybe your thinking didn't even get that far. In any case, here you are, playing poker, as if playing poker is the only thing you ever want to do.

Has any of these things ever happened to you? How did you feel at the time? Remember, I really want you to think about these situations, articulate them to yourself, maybe even write down a sentence or two describing them. And when you're done with that, think about situations I haven't described. Think about any time you've ever blown up in a poker game, or stayed too long, or knowingly played wrong. See if you can identify the underlying why. Andy Black says he puts in four hours a day getting his mind right. The least you and I can do is invest a few moments' thought, I think.

Look, I'm not saying that we generally lack control. Most of the time, we start when we want to start, stop when we want to stop, and play how we intend to play. But most of the time isn't really good enough. Successful poker requires discipline, and discipline begins and ends with awareness. The better you know yourself, and the better you can address yourself frankly and honestly, the better your game will be, absolutely. The good news is that emotional intelligence is something you can practice and master, just like any other aspect of your game.

Be who you are. There's nothing wrong with that. Enjoy your poker. Have a passion for it, even. When you feel high, go ahead and feel high. When you feel low, go ahead and feel low. But in all events, and at all times, try to step back and watch yourself feeling what you're feeling. Don't beat yourself up for your emotions, but do acknowledge them, and limit their negative impact on your choices. The real game of poker is played out on the level of feeling. If you grow your emotional intelligence, your poker skills (and life skills) and profits will pretty much take care of themselves.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back and try to get to sleep. I don't hold out much hope, for in my experience, jet lag has a perverse and pernicious mind of its own. But who knows? Maybe there's another poker tournament on TV. Or maybe I'll just have a good, long think session, and learn something about myself that I didn't yet know.

John Vorhaus is the author of the Killer Poker book series and the new poker novel Under the Gun, in bookstores now. He resides in cyberspace at vorza.com, and blogs the world from somnifer.typepad.com. John Vorhaus' photo: Gerard Brewer.