Roy Kicks Roy in the Butt!

There are times I can't believe how badly I play poker. (Don't fall all over yourselves to agree at once.) With all the years of experience I have behind me, the countless hours of poker conversations I've had with some real good players, and the endless hours of poker problems and analysis I've done, I freakin' know better! I know how to make good decisions. Sometimes, though, the functioning of my brain in regard to poker is not at its peak. Blah!

It was Memorial Day weekend, a happy time in Vegas. The casino was filled with its best customers and the poker room was packed to capacity. It was Friday night and I was socializing with a friend, Joe, as we sat next to each other playing $30-$60 hold'em. He was going back home in a couple of days and I was enjoying our conversation, as I knew he would be leaving town soon. As we chatted away, we both got good and stuck. Neither of us played our "A" game, or our "B" game, for that matter. The heart and focus I used to consistently put into poker when the game was a much bigger part of my life was in nowheresville. We yakked and yakked, and I put my game on autopilot. Sadly for Joe, but probably a good thing for me, he busted out early and hit the road. I finally started paying a little attention to what I was doing, hit a couple of hands, and ended up winning $46. I probably ran way too well to cash out a win of that size, considering the quality of my play.

While driving home, I talked to myself a bunch. I kicked myself in the butt for playing like a total fool on the opening Friday night of a major holiday weekend. I had blown off primo poker earn time, time that was supposed to have a big positive edge for me. I mean, I was totally disgusted with myself. I hate it when I play badly, and I really hate it when I am totally disgusted with myself. I was not in a good mood.

Some of my friends find my habit of talking to myself a little strange, and I suspect they are right. (Or, as my friend from Florida says, "I'm schizophrenic," and so am I.) I know I get lots of odd looks from other drivers on Nevada's roads when I cuss myself out, using hand gestures and all. But within myself, I find that this is very valuable. It holds me together at times, and keeps my perspective realistic. And it makes me learn from my mistakes. Card Player would never print what I said to myself that night. I gritted and was determined to be a different player the following night.

While driving down to Bellagio to play the next night, I was still talking to myself, although with a different tone. I played Survivor's Eye of the Tiger on the car stereo to pump myself up. (It's the eye of the tiger, it's the cream of the fight, risin' up to the challenge of our rivals; and the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night, and he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger. Go, Roy, go!) At times like these, I challenge myself, get my ego involved, and stir up my competitive juices. I tell myself that I am going to focus and play very well; I am going to be aware of what is going on around me; and I am going to put forth the effort to do my best.

As I have often said, the answer to most poker equations depends on the circumstances. What is the mood of your opponent(s)? What is his chip position? What hands does he play? How does he play them? And so on. The amount of information to know is infinite, and definitely more than I can ever remember. It takes me a lot of thought to remember a small percentage of it. But when you're on your game, you suck in as much as you can and use it to your advantage.

I was pretty hyped up to play when I finally got a seat. The session started out slowly, but I put forth a good effort, caught a good run of cards after a few hours, and quit a pretty good winner. I tried four nonstandard plays (plays I designed from reading an opponent's play or mannerisms) on four different occasions during the night, two of which were successful and won me the pot. Overall, the four plays netted me a significant profit. In bet-making situations, I made plays that got extra bets. The expectation of those bets added up to a nice amount, and I actualized more than the expectation of them, too! Several players at the table remarked how lucky I was – and they were right, as the cards favored me. But, I was making the most out of the cards I was receiving. I made plays that were netting me much the best of it, and added a lot of value to my expectation. They were not plays I would have made if my game was being played on autopilot.

Putting in hours concentrating on a poker game is tough work. Many geniuses cannot stand the grind of professional poker and cannot become successful pros. It is much, much easier to catch a few cards and head to the bar. But over the course of time, that attitude shows in your bankroll. When I keep my mind on the game, and think about how my opponents are thinking, what hands they are playing, and how those hands are being played, I can make plays from that knowledge, and often the edge in those plays is great, many times netting me the pot. Practically all plays that win you the pot have much greater value than plays you make that win you an extra bet(s).

Often, I can play for weeks and not realize that my game has gotten sloppy, and that I have fallen into autopilot mode. I just go through the motions, not putting much thought into my decisions. Relying on my instincts (which aren't all bad), I can put in tons of hours at a subpar performance. Often it takes a bad run of cards, or a result like that Friday night with Joe when I blew a large positive expectation opportunity, to awaken me. Eventually in those situations, you will have a bad run of cards, and when you're playing bad cards badly, it will always get your attention – right in the wallet.

Generally, a stern lecture to myself gets me back on the right track psychologically. But it is getting much harder for me to maintain a professional level of focus as I get older, lead a more hectic life, have much more on my mind, play less, and keep busier. I do see once-great players become has-beens as they move their game to autopilot. They become bored with the game, and don't focus anymore. Their game deteriorates further with time. Their knowledge grows stale, declining without the input of fresh new knowledge and with the lack of reaffirmations of existing knowledge.

It is always good to see friends like Joe at the poker table. The rich variety of people I have met is a large part of how the game has formed my life. But the time for socializing is at the bar afterward. Otherwise, you'll get your butt kicked in the game, and you'll have to kick yourself in the butt afterward.

If you want to play like a pro, treat the game professionally. Imagine how much better your poker game would be now if you maintained the work ethic and intensity of a professional athlete. Imagine how good it could be a year from now if you did that. Kick yourself in the butt to do your best. Even if you fail, at least you will know that you gave your best effort.

Roy Cooke played winning professional poker for more than 16 years. He is a successful real estate broker/salesperson in Las Vegas. If you would like to ask Roy poker-related questions, you may do so online at www.UnitedPokerForum.com.