The Larry Bird Method for Overcoming Weaknesses

One of the joys of spending the holidays with my brother Andy in Charlotte, North Carolina, is that we can still play golf in December. When we arrived at the driving range, Andy and I bought a bucket of balls and were on our way. Neither of us is very good at the game, but I'm particularly awful off the tee and he's particularly awful at putting. So, sure enough, after about five minutes of dismal drives, I went over to the putting green. For the next hour, we both felt pretty good about ourselves, as I never did make it back to the tee box and Andy never found his way to the putting green. By the time we left, we both had improved on our strengths.

Our time at the driving range got me thinking about Larry Bird. When Bird played for the Celtics, each off-season he picked one particular weakness and devoted almost his entire training regimen to that weakness. If he had a great season shooting three-pointers but struggled with his post play, unlike most players, he spent his summer focusing on his weakness. Whether it was during his individual workouts or scrimmages, he dedicated himself to working only on his post game. Is it any wonder that the Hall of Famer went on to become one of the most complete players of all time?

So, if I was so aware of Bird's success, why wasn't I hitting my driver, which is undoubtedly the weakest part of my game? Because like most people, what's enjoyable is what's comfortable. And what's comfortable is what we excel at. For me, it sure feels a lot better watching my 20-foot putt go in the hole than watching my drive roll 90 yards. I'm human, forgive me.

However, if golf were my livelihood, or even if it were an activity in which there was some opportunity to make or lose money, you shouldn't forgive me; you should ridicule me – because winners, whether it's in sports, business, or poker, don't spend their time on what's comfortable. They spend their time on what's necessary – even if it feels uncomfortable. When I founded Venture Literary three years ago with Frank Scatoni, a former editor at Simon & Schuster, my biggest weakness was editing, and Frank's biggest weakness was sales. But because this was our livelihood, Frank worked on sales and I worked on editing; and I'm proud to say that now we're both equally adept at the two.

In poker, there are some of you who are great at reading players and horrible with odds. You applaud yourself for your "feel" of the game and laugh at those math dorks who are obsessed with numbers. Others of you are mathematically oriented and know the percentages down to the decimal point, yet aren't strong at reading players and putting them on a hand. You applaud yourself for your diligence and smirk at the good old boys who are too lazy to pick up a book or turn on a computer. Now, of these two groups, which one do you think spends more time studying statistics? And which one of these groups should spend more time studying statistics?

Of course, even if you have the discipline of Larry Bird, before you go about working on your weaknesses, you need to discover your weaknesses. If you fall into one of the two groups listed above, it's obvious – "stat" guys need to work on "feel," and "feel" guys need to work on "stats." If you can't identify your weaknesses, you need to find someone who will let you know. If you have a friend who plays with you regularly, it could be as simple as buying him dinner and asking him to break down your play. I still remember that in 1995, I bought dinner for Jose, who not only played with me but also dealt to me for several hundred hours. "Order up," I said, "because I'm moving out to California to prop, and you need to tell me where I need to improve."

If you don't have a friend like this, you need to seek out a teacher to give you this information. Most people love to tell others what to do, so it could be as simple as finding a player you respect and buying him dinner. Or, if there isn't someone who plays with you regularly whom you respect (or you don't want to give away information about your play), ask another player to sweat you for a few hours, or better yet, buy him into the game you're playing with the sole purpose of observing you. If you're rolling your eyes at the idea and think that paying for advice is preposterous, I'd like to short your results for the coming year.

If you're a winner like my friend Michael Roban, and you live in New York, you pay Barry Tanenbaum $100 an hour – several times – to counsel you over the phone. If you're a winner like Jim McManus, and you live in Chicago, you invest in computer software and make T.J. Cloutier's book your bible. If you're a winner like Daniel Negreanu, and even if you live in Vegas and make your living at poker, you turn RGP into your own tutorial when you're working on a new game. In short, you discover your weaknesses, and you dedicate time and/or money to improve on your weaknesses.

If you're having any sort of success in poker, you naturally have some gifts. And if you're like most people (read: losers), you will rely on those gifts and hope to be successful. If, however, you are the rare person in this world, like Larry Bird, who is a true winner, you will identify your weaknesses and go about the uncomfortable process of improving on them – regardless of where you live and what the cost.

I suppose this will give me something to think about the next time I go to the driving range. And if you're not thinking about how you're going to become the Larry Bird of poker, I'll see you on the rail.

Greg Dinkin is the author of three books, including The Poker MBA (go to www.thepokermba.com to see his revised website) and Amarillo Slim in a World Full of Fat People. He is also the co-founder of Venture Literary, www.ventureliterary.com, a management company that works with writers to develop their material for books, film, and television.