What's The Rush?

In a perfect world, we’d get to play poker as much as we want. In a perfect world, the game would always be on and the game would always be soft. In a perfect world, there would never be family obligations or work-related travel or gridlocky traffic jams to stand between us and our play. In a perfect world, we would live in poker bliss.

Well, last time I checked, this wasn’t a perfect world, so for most of us there’s a gap between the amount of poker we want to play and the amount of poker we get to play. This gap gets amplified by a long layoff, and puts us at risk for bad play. It’s this risk that I’d like to analyze now.

Put yourself in my shoes: I’ve been traveling overseas for the better part of a month. Nothing wrong with traveling overseas, it’s just that I’ve had little (and by little I mean no) opportunity to find a game. Hence, no poker for poor, put-upon, not-living-in-a-perfect-world JV. Now I come home, unpack, wade through the mail, throw in a load of laundry, and, before I’ve even had a chance to sleep the jet lag out of my system, I’m off to the club for some long-overdue and well-deserved play.

I storm into the club with a “Look who’s home from the wars, boys!” gaze on my face, ready to take no prisoners in pursuit of the poker buzz I’ve missed for these many weeks. Can you name five mistakes I’m likely to make in this frame of mind? I can, easy.

1. In the name of making up for lost time, I’ll play way too many hands.
2. A feeling of entitlement (it’s been so long since I’ve dragged a pot) will cause me to overplay those hands.
3. If I suffer early setbacks, I’ll try to get well quick because, gosh, losing’s not why I came.
4. If I get ahead early, I’ll push my rush too far and break it, as the euphoria of winning after so long a layoff overwhelms my common sense.
5. Win or lose, I’ll play too long.

Can you think of other mistakes that I (or you) might make in this circumstance? It wouldn’t hurt to write ‘em down; at least you’ll know what they are.

Undoubtedly, the biggest mistake I can make is going to the club in the first place. Tired from long travel, with my body clock out of whack and my motivation for playing torqued from profit to buzz, I have no hope of bringing my A game (or even my C- game) to the table. And this is the big pitfall of layoff poker: The very moment when we should exercise restraint is the exact moment we’re least likely to do so.

You know it’s true. I know you know. I’ve seen you arrive in Las Vegas or Tunica or Atlantic City absolutely wiped out by the trip you took to get there. You know you’re wiped out, and you don’t care. You came to play poker, and by gum poker you shall play, like, now. So, you jump into the first available game (not even the best available game, not by a long shot.) Fueled by adrenaline, you’re maybe even sharp for a while, but soon the sharpness fades, and all that’s left is the weariness of travel just waiting to degrade your decision-making ability and melt your stack.

Am I wrong? Okay, then I’m wrong: You’re one of those sensible blessed few who can travel to Las Vegas or Tunica or Atlantic City, check into your hotel room, chill out over a meal or a refreshing beverage, get some sleep, and attack the game later with all the clear-eyed patience and keen awareness that you’d attack the game back home. You’re immune to the layoff, and I commend you for your strength.

But be honest: Are you really immune to the layoff, or do you just think you are? Do you find some excuse to play before you’re really mentally ready? What form do your excuses take? Here are the ones I use:

“I only have so many hours to play while I’m here. I know I’m not completely sharp, but I can’t afford to wait.”

“I have a strategy for jumping in after a layoff: I play super-tight and play only premium hands.” (Even though every fiber of my being wants to get active.)

“I’ll probably play even better than usual because I’ve forgotten my old bad habits.”

That last one’s a corker, huh? The “long layoff equals new leaf” theory of playing bad poker. With this thought in place, you can rationalize almost any foolhardy behavior, but I’m telling you, don’t do it. Just don’t. Try a different rationalization instead. Rationalize a decent excuse for not playing poker – not at all – until you’re good and ready to give it your best effort. Remind yourself that the game will be there tomorrow, and the game will be better because you will be better. Tell yourself to consider the bottom line, and measure the desire to just play poker against the desire to be the winning player you generally try to be. Cook up any excuse to delay your play until you’ve recovered from your journey or your layoff or your other obligations or whatever has taken you away from the game you love. I know it’s the game you love; I love it too, and I can’t wait to get back in there and mix it up again. But I must wait; you must too. It’s the only way we can keep the layoff from kicking us in the ass.

So, the next time you’re thinking of rushing off to play a session you know you’re not quite ready for, ask yourself this simple question: “What would JV do?” Well, he’d probably rush right off and play, so don’t play like I play. Instead, try to profit from my mistakes.

At least one of us should, after all. ♠

John Vorhaus is author of the Killer Poker series and co-author of Decide to Play Great Poker, plus many mystery novels including World Series of Murder, available exclusively on Kindle. He tweets for no apparent reason @TrueFactBarFact and secretly controls the world from johnvorhaus.com.