How I’m Dumb

If someone tells you he’s smarter than you, he’s not. If he were, he’d know not to tip you off to that fact, thus putting you on your guard. This is true in poker, and also in life, where, at minimum, you don’t want people to think they’re not as smart as you, for no other reason than it may make them feel grumpy and insecure, and then not give you what you want.

With that in mind, let me never claim to be smarter than anyone, and let me underscore the point by listing the “Top 10 Ways I’m Dumb at Poker.” I hope to demonstrate through this exercise in honesty that honesty, even painful honesty, is a conscientious poker player’s friend, not foe. Here, then, is my list …

10. I Get Cocky When I Get Ahead. Many is the winning session I’ve turned into a losing session by confusing good fortune with good play. A few key cards can make the difference between booking a win and booking a loss. If I always remembered this fact, my own hubris would not get the best of me.

9. I Take Slim Draws. It’s amazing how I can incorrectly compute the simple math of a draw when ego is at stake. I know that I have only a four-outer, but I will jump through any mental hoops necessary (with visions of implied odds dancing in my head) to justify the draw.

8. I Glower When I Get Behind. Not that I’d ever come right out and be rude, but I do tend to turn turtle when things aren’t going my way. There’s nothing wrong with tightening up my play when the situation demands, but I also tighten up my image, and a silent, sullen me does not serve my best ends.

7. I Push a Rush Too Far. Related to getting cocky when I get ahead, I can’t always consolidate my gains without giving at least some of them back. This is often a case of overestimating my table strength or table image. Just because I’m hitting my hands, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the other players will fear me and back down.

6. I Lack Stamina or Focus. After a few hours of playing poker, even in a great game, my mind starts to wander. It may be that I’m just not cut out for marathon poker. I like to do too many other things.

5. I Fear Money. No matter how many times I tell myself that it’s only chips and that outcomes don’t matter, I still can’t let go of the fear of losing all of that … value. When I’m within my comfort range, I’m fine, but when I put — gee — a mortgage payment on the table, I start to get a little frayed around the confidence.

4. I Stay in Bad Games. Through either inertia, pride, or denial, I often convince myself that a game isn’t really as bad as it really is. Despite the evidence of my eyes, I can persuade myself that my opponents are not as frisky, tricky, deceptive, or clever as they clearly are. Leaving a bad game is a sign of intelligence, not cowardice.

3. I Don’t Complete My Drives. How often do you see good players raise preflop, bet the flop, bet the turn, bet the river, and eventually drop all foes? We know that they don’t always have the hands that they represent. What they do have is the essential ability to follow through on a drive, even a bluff-drive. I, on the other hand, will frequently break off a drive on the flop, checking the turn and the river if I haven’t dropped the field by then. Maybe I’m convinced that I won’t get all of my opponents to fold, but maybe I am not right.

2. I Call Even Though I’m Beat. Frequently, I know — just know — that an opponent has completed his hand. Nevertheless, I’ll call. Whether I tell myself that I’m calling “for the size of the pot” or “just to keep them honest,” I’m really calling only because I can’t stand to admit the truth: I’m beat and I know it, and I should fold.

And the No. 1 thing I do wrong is …
1. I Loosen Up. I loosen up when I’m winning. I loosen up when I’m losing. I loosen up when I’m tired or agitated or bored. I loosen up … just over time. I start out playing squeaky tight, but soon find myself opening the valve. The next thing I know, the spigot is wide open, and I’m playing every crazy hand I can get my crazy hands on. I think I’m being frisky, but I’m really “unscrewed,” and completely out of line.

Look, no one plays perfect poker. It’s a dream we can chase, but not a goal we can ever achieve. In the face of this reality, I find that it helps to be patient and impatient at the same time; that is, patient enough to forgive my mistakes, and impatient enough to demand better of myself next time. It’s generosity of spirit, and it’s great, but of course it can happen only if we’re able to see our mistakes in the first place.

To this generosity of spirit, just add clear-eyed self-awareness. Make frequent, frank inventories of your strengths and weaknesses, and use those discoveries to hone your game. At the end of the day, honesty may be the best weapon we have. Therefore, I throw the gauntlet to you: Can you list the top 10 ways you’re dumb at poker? I challenge you to make a frank and honest appraisal of the mistakes that you commonly make — but also the ones that you don’t.

I don’t, for example, buy in short, ever. I don’t rebuy when I rack out badly, ever. I don’t blame bad luck or bad karma for bad outcomes, ever. I don’t berate dealers or other players, ever. I don’t ask for deck changes or new setups, ever. I don’t gamble more than I can stand to lose, ever. I don’t get angry, ever (except at myself for making totally foolish plays; but, I quickly get over it). I don’t play when drunk, ever.

I hope you’ll see that all of this information — good news and bad news alike — is, at the end of the day, just information. You don’t have to be particularly smart to use useful information.

But, you’re not particularly smart if you don’t.

John Vorhaus is the author of the Killer Poker book series and the poker novel Under the Gun. He resides in cyberspace at radarenterprizes.com. Photo: Gerard Brewer.