Logic Versus Intuition

I’ve never really bought into the “feel player” versus “math player” debate. To the extent that there is a divide here, I’d rather call it intuition versus logic. The math is always there underlying everything, and no one wins without it. The real difference is in how players come to it.

Some attempt to enumerate all possible hands in an opponent’s range and then deduce how he would play each of them. Others use a combination of experience and intuition to recognize a profitable call, fold, or bluff even if they can’t articulate the math behind it.

As a card-carrying member of the logic camp, I admit that I’ve often been dismissive of the intuitive approach. I saw it as a strictly inferior approximation of what logical players do. At best, I thought, intuition can be a shortcut to the right decision, but I felt it should always be double-checked by logic, and I looked down on players who didn’t have the rigorous understanding of poker necessary to take this final step.

To be honest, I still harbor some of these views, but a big pot I lost recently convinced me that I have a few things to learn from more intuitive players.

A Logical Bluff

The villain in this hand is one of the better regulars at a cardroom where I play occasionally. We’d played a few big pots together in the past, including one where I check-raised a flopped set and stacked his overpair and one where I ran a big bluff with nothing representing a set only to run into a set in his hands. He’d also seen me playing very aggressively towards others in the game, though he’d never seen me leave the game a net loser and I believe he respected me as a player.

It was a $1-$3-$6 game, and he opened to $26 in first position. Based on his body language, I believed he did not have a premium hand, but I knew that my image wouldn’t permit me to three-bet him with any success. So when the action folded to me on the button, I called with 5 3, intending to attack him after the flop.

Already a bit of my arrogance is showing, eh? In my defense, there was a good chance at least one of the blinds would come along (although they didn’t in this case), and the effective stacks were about $800. Between my position and my read, I believed there was room to make up for the preflop equity deficit I was surely assuming.
The flop came K 5 2. Villain bet $40, and I called. I’ll often end up turning my hand into a bluff, but there’s certainly a fair chance that I’m ahead. That will be a judgment call to make later in the hand. It’s a testament to the power of position that I’m confident I’ll be able to figure out where I stand.

The turn brought the J. Villain checked, and I bet $60. Although I could easily be ahead, I don’t think any good comes from letting him see the river for free. If I win now, great. If he calls, I’ll be looking for an opportunity to bluff the river if I don’t improve.

He raised. It was $80 more for me to call. There was no longer any question of my being ahead, it was just a matter of how far behind. Based on my preflop read, I didn’t think he had kings or jacks. Lower sets were possible, as was K-J or maybe even just one pair of kings trying to charge me a little more if he perceived me to be on a flush draw.

Although I was clearly beat, I was reluctant to fold getting nearly four-to-one odds. One thing I was sure of was that Villain did not have a flush draw, so if I could win the pot either by improving or by bluffing spade rivers, then this would be a profitable call. I called.

The river was the 7. After some hesitation, Villain bet $180. I quickly put him all-in for about $450 more. After a lot of squirming, he called with K-J.

Post-Game Analysis

When a bluff fails, there’s always a temptation to blame your opponent for a bad call. I believe strongly that it’s important to resist that urge, because it inhibits your ability to learn from your mistakes. For one thing, if your opponent doesn’t fold exactly the sort of hand you were trying to make him fold, then it doesn’t do you any good to put the blame on him. What you really need to figure out is why you reached the wrong conclusion about how he would play and how this hand will affect your image with him and other players at the table going forward.

The “logic player” in me was ready to attribute my mistake to expecting my opponent to read hands in the way that I do. Even if he thinks this is a good card for me to bluff, what kind of hand could he expect me to get to the river with that would need to bluff? Only a bizarre turn float like the one I made.

The most important lesson I learned came from a post-hand conversation I overheard the Villain having with the player on his right. “He and I have some history,” he said, referring to me. “We’re always trying to make plays at each other.”

There’s no other way to look at it: his intuition trumped my logic. I believed that, by playing a hand unconventionally (OK, maybe badly) at multiple points on earlier streets, I’d created a great opportunity to run a big river bluff. Logically, my story added up. What else could I have had but a flush draw?

I’m sure he couldn’t have told you what he put me on or how often he expected me to have a flush as opposed to a bluff. What he could tell you, what he did tell the player next to him, is what was really important: he intuited that I was looking for excuses to make moves on him, and he was right. It was an expensive lesson, but it’s convinced me that I need to pay more attention to game flow and the emotions of my opponents, especially when playing live poker. ♠

Andrew Brokos is a professional poker player, writer and coach. He blogs about poker strategy on ThinkingPoker.net and is co-host of the Thinking Poker Podcast. Andrew is also interested in education reform and founded an after-school debate program for urban youth.