Mind Over Poker

Have you ever listened to a friend describe a hand that he lost, and something didn’t seem to add up quite right? Your first instinct may have been to think that he was fibbing or rationalizing in his attempt to justify his own bad play to himself. He was looking for positive reinforcement for his bad play when he reinvented what really happened.

I often have my suspicions when someone relates a hand or a happenstance that doesn’t quite make sense. Of course, sometimes I’m seated at the table during the hand in question, and can witness the action myself. This happened recently during an event at the Harrah’s Open in Atlantic City. I’ll provide a quick recap of the hand and then describe the reinvention that was quite fascinating.

I’m in the big blind and a solid but rather straightforward player is seated to my immediate left. He was very open in discussing the play of others, and already had misread what I thought were fairly obvious reads. (As an aside, players often reveal much about themselves when they discuss the play of others, as we all tend to project our own frame of reference. Be mindful of this, and use it to your advantage.) Mr. Solid makes a standard raise of three times the big blind. He gets three callers before it gets to me. I have pocket deuces and make the call. The flop comes 8-4-2 rainbow. I check, figuring that we’re bound to get some action. To my surprise, it gets checked all the way around.

The turn brings a jack and puts a second diamond on the board. I make close to a pot-sized bet. Mr. Solid instantly calls. Then, the next two players fold and the player on the button takes a long time before calling. The river brings a third diamond. At this point, I check. Mr. Solid checks, as well. The button takes a little time, and then makes a big overbet. I took my time in deciding what to do. If I called and lost, I would be severely crippled. I wasn’t really worried about the button. I thought he was just making a play. The original raiser scared me, though. He could have the A K. But would he really check, hoping the button would bet? That didn’t make sense, so I called, and Mr. Solid flipped over pocket aces before mucking them. My read was right, and the player on the button had nothing but air. I scooped a big pot.

When we got down to the final two tables, I again was seated to the immediate right of Mr. Solid. To my surprise, he brings up that hand, and complains about how his aces got cracked. However, he brags about how he lost the minimum, because the player who flopped a set had a big tell. I had to laugh to myself. It’s not that I think I’m perfect, but this particular “tell” is one that I don’t have. More importantly, he didn’t lose the minimum, and I think the potential flush on the river saved him more money than any phantom tell. Finally, if he was that astute at reading people, didn’t he know that the player with the tell was seated right next to him? I couldn’t help but look at him, and then he was obviously embarrassed when the light bulb went on.

The moral of the story is that many players too often let their egos get in the way of being completely honest with their play. On some level, these players recognize that they made a mistake, since they are changing the facts in telling the story. However, until they come to terms with their mistakes instead of hiding them, they will never improve. Think about this, and make sure that you are the player who honestly examines his play, for better or worse.

David Apostolico is the author of several poker-strategy books. His most recent book — Compete, Play, Win — is a guide to harnessing your innate competitive drive for maximum effect. You can contact him at [email protected].