blackchips&spaceships

I recently read an old thread on the 2+2 forums that made me cry. I mean I actually had tears pouring from my eyes. It had been a long time since I laughed that hard.

The back-story goes a bit like this. A Full Tilt Poker red pro named Alan Boston plays a lot of mid-stakes games. As a red pro, you receive a customized avatar designed by the guys at Full Tilt. Alan Boston, IRL, is an older dude with a clean, bald shaved head. He is your typical 50-some year old California bro who doesn’t want to grow up, so he throws on some Ed Hardy, pierces his ears, and calls it a day.

Alan Boston as an avatar, on the other hand, is an alien. Straight up, his avatar resembles one of those tear-drop headed aliens from some horrible sci-fi movie. Naturally, players on the forums were ready to take full advantage of Full Tilts liberal chat privileges and got to work.

Players began to give Alan crap for his image. The joking was all in good fun and would have probably subsided pretty quickly had Boston not retaliated. Apparently, as a red pro, you have the privilege to ban a players chat for an extended period of time. Whether or not he can actually pull the plug, or have an admin do it, is not known. Regardless, players who were calling him out were being threatened and often lost their chat rights.

As the internets motto goes, “If you can’t beat ‘em, keep making fun of them until the commit suicide.” This motto has proven its self time and time again. Naturally, players came in the masses to get a cheap shot at the man they call “Alien Boston.”

Some of my favorite gems:

wsop_caddy (Observer): Hey, Alan

Alan Boston: yes wsop

wsop_caddy (Observer): Can i ask you question?

Alan Boston: only if it is not mean spirited

wsop_caddy (Observer): Is you kid as Ugly as you.

Alan Boston: say goodbye to youf chat

wsop_caddy (Observer): What?

wsop_caddy (Observer): You look like MR clean

jiroz (Observer): alan boston can i ask you a question

Alan Boston: if it concerns avatar no

jiroz (Observer): lol no it just concerns your relationship to john locke

jiroz (Observer): hes your brother no?

Alan Boston: who?

Alan Boston: i have a sister

Alan Boston: not a brother

Alan Boston: and she teaches special ed

jiroz (Observer): oh nvm

CertifiedDon1 (Observer): alan do you ever play plo8

Alan Boston: never have

CertifiedDon1 (Observer): i was just wondering if you ever play against my buddy predator

WCGRider (Observer): alan boston are you there

WCGRider (Observer): when you have a moment sir

WCGRider (Observer): alan i am a moderator from 2+2 poker

WCGRider (Observer): i am here to apologize for my forums behavior

randymilonakis (Observer): damn doug that big of you

WCGRider (Observer): ty

WCGRider (Observer): i have a dream that one day

WCGRider (Observer): people from all cities countries and planets

WCGRider (Observer): can play poker in peace

"Not Turkdaddy (Observer): how come when alan boston wears a turtleneck he looks like a broken condom?"

boleracea: can i ask u quetion on it?

Alan Boston: yeah ask whatever you want

Alan Boston: go

boleracea: why'd u get chemo? i didn't know aliens could get cancer

mister coke (Observer): BOOM

Naturally, there are other great comments in the thread: here is the link.

So the more I thought about this chat barrage, the more I thought of the way it influences the game. Obviously Alien is used to this chat action and probably gets a kick out of it. He has more than likely learned to not let it influence his game. Some players, on the other hand, are reactive to in-game chat more so then they realize.

So I set to the cash game tables to do some research. I picked the more active tables: the tables with chat and large pots. These tabled tend to draw a larger crowd and a larger mix of play types. What exactly was my goal? I wanted to see if I could influence players to stray from their play style based on what I said.

This experiment/strategy has pros and cons. The pros are that you can use your chat as a weapon. The ability to communicate with your opponents and influence their decision is a definite advantage. The cons are that unless you know exactly how to draw out the correct reactions, your plan can backfire and you become a target for the wrong reasons.

I started with the basics, I would say things like “you played that bad” or “how are you not broke?” While often incorrect statements, the words brought attention to me and identified me as a loose cannon. I wanted to convey myself as a tilt-monster, someone who would lose control after a bad hand. After finding a player who was willing to go at it, I would start to get involved in pots with him and define his hand range better.

The results were, for the most part, great! I noticed a wider range of opening hands, which bode well for my tighter play. Most micro-stakes players are easy reads, and they make the reads easier when they play against a player for reasons other than profit. I made players want to beat me and get involved in hands with me. My chat action had in fact made my game easier and more profitable.

Obviously, my sample size was a bit small and I was probably a bit lucky, but the concept is dead on. A week of play is not exactly a gold mine of information. There were probably things I could have said and approaches I could take that would work against my profit; only repetition and volume can help iron out those wrinkles. For now, though, I’ll return to my normal game-play. The chat monster will sleep and wait.

all is fair in poker and war.

I can see a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face. The drop races to his jaw line where it slows and begins to slide ever so slightly towards his chin. The droplet reaches the apex of his face and stops, as if contemplating the depth of its inevitable fall. He reaches up and captures the sweat, swiping it way and saving it from the fateful plummet.

“I raise” he declares and he sets his arm back on the table. He motions towards his chip stack; it sits like a fortress atop a battle field of green felt. The cascading walls and slightly imperfect stacks form the battlements; the fortress shows scars of battles past.

Along the outer walls of the castle stand the foot soldiers; noble and brave white one dollar chips. They do the dirty work and ask nothing in return but a safe place to lay their head. They take the grunt of the war, often trading allegiance and sacrificed before any of the battle cards are dealt.

Behind our noble infantry stand the pale red Captains. Small is size, yet strong at heart, the five dollar Captains fight a stronger battle with help from the white soldiers. The Captains strike fear in to the hearts of the enemy; they are a clairvoyant sign that a larger battle may be looming. The Captains are trained on the offensive; enough of them can help secure a victory.

Atop the crimson Captains reside the green Colonels. These war hardened veterans are worth twenty five times that of a normal gunman and demand respect. When a Colonel is thrown in to battle, the lines have been drawn and there is no peaceful resolution. A Colonel often emerges as a protective measure; it takes a special brand of courage to call a Colonels bluff.

Among all of the troops and ranks stands a rare breed of war machine. The black chip, often few in number, casts a shadow upon the kingdom. One hundred times the might of a soldier, the black General stands atop the castle, directing troops in battle. The mere sight of a General at the peak of a kingdom can make enemies rethink their battle plans, for the risk of a General launched in to battle is worth a mindful assessment. The play of a General can often result in hushed tones and heavy respiration. The General is a decision maker, his fate controlled only by one man.

The King.

This particular King, seated across from me, declared his raise as “All In” and shoves his castle towards the center. I hesitated for a moment, glancing over the T82 rainbow of a flop. I peeked again at my pocket tens, unsure of whether this was actually happening. Trying not to hide my slight confusion, I responded with an “I call” and matched the size of this castle on the opposite side of the bet line.

My opponent flips over pocket kings and rolls his eyes when I reveal the top set. Sorry, bro. I guess sometimes all the battle preparation in the world can’t prevent certain massacres. All of the detail that went in to this battle is only possible in person; live poker is an intensity machine.

In the past ten years or so, the emergence of online poker has streamlined the way poker players find action. The convenience of sitting at home and playing micro stakes has brought players by the masses, helping create a profitable poker realm. We often get wrapped up with the multi-tabling and the sheer mass of options and forget about the simplistic roots of the game we love.

Most of the players I speak with have their roots and of poker deep in kitchen table games; five card draw and stud poker are often handed down by our parents. We learn the values of cards and hands from our fathers; we play for pennies in the basement. Poker is a recreational game and a social past time; it often brings the nostalgic feeling of family and friends.

We eventually learned of Hold’em and the people who are apparently making a living playing this variation. We watched Doyle Brunson and Stu Ungar wage their wars and take the titles. The game was a bud waiting to bloom; these men had no idea the flower it was to become. Fast forward to Chris Moneymaker and the poker boom, everyone knew the story of the kid who made it big.

None of this rich poker history would be possible without the element of live play. It is from the heart of the smooth felt that we draw our inspiration. Sure, we’ve grown used to the pixelated cards and time bank chimes. It’s a comfort zone, sitting on your comfy couch with your laptop and your dog. The T.V. chatting in the background and a cup of coffee on the table, you need only your finger tips to make a decision. Live poker, though so it seems, is not as “brick-and-mortar” as its online bretheren. Azn_Cutie his the nail on the head with this quote posted on PokerSift.com:

Live poker, on the other hand, will never be solved. It has much different subtle nuances than online poker, especially in terms of reading tells. Hand equity calculations don’t need to be exact because you can narrow hand ranges so much more through live tells and this, rather than exact calculation, provides you with a lot of the edge in the game. This is not to disparage online poker or say that online players are better/worse than live players, it is simply my opinion that both of these arenas utilize completely different skill sets and mine are much more suited to live play.

Although it is arguable that there might be more money in online poker, sometimes it is worth losing a bit of that value for authenticity. Azn_Cutie does well to note that online players are no better or worse than live players, they are just a different breed of competitor. All the differences aside, poker players need to take their true ambitions in to perspective.

Close your eyes for just a moment and picture yourself in poker glory. You stand at the pantheon of poker, your brightest moment and your finest hour. Are you seated behind a laptop or a desktop computer?

Nope.

You are surrounded by hundred of screaming fans, your best friends are hugging you and the tournament director is fastening the gold bracelet around your wrist. You make your way to the edge of the table, stack of hundred dollar bills sit aside your final hand. The seat is still warm from a battle just fought. The board is sitting right where you left it, right at the moment that you called your opponents fateful bluff. The cameras are flashing and the press is calling your name. For a moment suspended in time, the glory of live poker is infinite. You live to play this game.

hell hath no fury.

Hell hath no fury like a poker player on a mission. A true gambler is a wild animal with no discipline to guide him. A poker player, on the other hand, is a tamed beast. Endless hours of controlled practice have taught poker players to harness the gambler inside them and guide it to success. We take our innate urge for excitement and monetary gain and focus it on a set plan of action. My plan of action this week was simple: make a profit.

And that, I did.

After a hellish week of bad beats and unintelligent play, I reset my systems and decided that a break was my best course of action. After seeking help in the advice of some of the games top players, I utilized my time away from poker to my full ability. I reviewed my hand histories and focused on the causes of my mistakes. I now had a clear understanding of what went wrong in the past weeks.

I sat down on Monday without the intentions of playing cards. After browsing the web for a bit, I found myself on p5’s reading some recent scores and I became motivated. I decided to fire up my Absolute Poker client; the tournaments are typically smaller fields and tend to have shorter run times. I registered for a $1 re-buy tournament with two add-ons. The prize pool was guaranteed to be at least $2000. With my new-found drive, I set out to the virtual felt to slay some donks.

Fast forward 627 players, 932 re-buys, 623 add-ons, and 7 hours later and I am sitting 2nd of five at the final table of the tournament. The tournament has run much longer then I had expected, but by now I am fired up beyond belief. I have the table window sitting adjacent with the prize pool information window, staring at my goal of $405.54. I could tell I was the best player at the table; the other four players had very predictable styles of play. My reads were dead on and I was in control of almost every pot I was in. My aggressive play as paying off and I had the other players guessing. I was poised to win this tournament until one hand changed my fate.

At the 12,000/24,000 level with a 2,000 ante, I was dealt KTdd on the button. In five handed poker, this hand is a definite raise. So the villain and chip leader limps UTG +1 and the next two players fold to me. I put in a standard 3x raise to 48,000 and the villain flat calls me. The flop comes out 425dd and I decide to lead out for about 120,000 chips to see if I can pluck up the pot or induce a call. I try to bet my draws when playing short handed because:
• It compliments my aggressive style
• It allows me to show up with huge hands without giving my opponent future warning.

Most times I get the pot without contest, other times I catch my draw and win pots the old fashioned way. The villain in this instance called my 120,000 bet and we went to the turn. Ad: the money card. This card completed my nut flush on a very action inducting board. The Ace was great because it could have very well completed my opponents low straight, top pair, or lower flush. My semi-bluff had worked to perfection and I was about to reap the benefits. I decided to check in hopes that my opponent would think I was stealing pre-flop and just taking another shot on the flop. My aggressive style most often leads players to think that I am stealing with lesser cards and making attempts to get cheap pots on dangerous boards. I click the check button and lean back to watch my opponents play. After a few moments, my opponent makes a very curious move.

The villain bet out 648,000 chips, about 30,000 less than what was left in my stack. This is not a standard bet; the villain was calling me out. I squealed like a little girl receiving a pony for her birthday, did a few fist pumps, and then some frontflips in my basement. I had the second best possible hand. Only 53dd takes the cookies here, and if he’s got a straight flush, then he deserves this pot. I go ahead and commence my frontflipping and return to my chair and raise the rest of my chips in to the pot. The villain calls and shows me 44sh and I am elated. He overplayed his set and now he is going to pay. I just start to call my roommate in to the room to see my monster pot when the worst possible thing happens.

The river: Ac.

Silence. I see the pixilated chips slide over to the villain. The number under “xSTEVIEDx” reads: 0. A small notice pops up over the table window. “Congratulations xSTEVIEDx, you finished in 5th place for $109.33. Thank you for playing!” I stare at the screen in disbelief.

A fucking full house. I punch my desk, my wall, and my door. In that order.

There is nothing I can do. He made a play at the pot with a good hand in hopes that I didn’t have the flush. I got my money in with the best hand and could not fade his 10 outs. One 4, three 2’s, three 5’s, and three Ace’s stood between me and the first prize. That fateful ace, in essence, cost me $300.

There is no guarantee that I would have took the tournament. I have to say that I am confident that when I have 3 other players stacked 4:1, I’m pretty solid. I can’t really be upset with almost 10,000% profit, but it leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

I sat there for a while, watched the end of the tournament, and put on some John Mayer. I leaned back and closed my eyes, clearing my mind. I may have suffered a bad beat in a critical tournament, but with $100 profit in my bankroll I could only settle on one thing.

I’m back.

c-bets&bracelets

I am either a competitive soul or a degenerate gambler. I tip toe the fine line often, hopping gracefully from side to side, never invading both realms at once. I live to compete, whether it be against a single opponent or against millions of others. I can channel focus and establish a cool façade in the most intense and unnerving situations. I was born to be a poker player. I never had much of a choice.

Actually, I did have a choice. I had not fully understood the game of Texas Hold’em until I watched the 2003 World Series of Poker. Most of the appeal around the event was that a little know player had won his entry through a cheap satellite ticket and went on to take the first prize. I didn’t care much about the newbie making it big as I did the intensity of the game. I was captivated by the simplistic look of poker. The cards came out and players placed wagers on who had the better hand. I was also keenly aware, even at a young age, that this simplistic view was a thin veil atop of a mistress of strategy, math, and insight. It was this mixture of styles that drew me to the game. Well, that and the prospect of winning tons of money.

Sure, winning money is one of the primary reasons I play the game of poker. It’s nice to outwit or outdraw someone and get rewarded for it. Who doesn’t like the thrill of money on the line, a big stack of black chips heaped in the middle of the green felt? The dealer holds the river card in the air a half second longer then normal, all of the air is sucked out of the room by the suspense. The plastic coated card slaps the table with a slight “whip” of air and everyone stops for a moment as their eyes focus in on the last card. Someone jumps up from their seat; another puts his face in his hands. The rest of the table hoots and hollers, cheers and sighs, almost as emotionally invested in the pot as the bettors themselves.

The chips are shoved over to the winner and some words may be exchanged, but there was more to that scenario than just money. Pride was won and lost; competition took over and made those clay discs in the center of the table mere toys. For a moment suspended in time, the players thought not of the monetary reward, but the reward of victory in its own right.

Our newfound victor might play his next hand a bit more loosely; he is on a hot streak after all. Our loser is out for vengeance, more focused than ever. The game is no longer solely about money; there are emotions influencing the game. Blood is in the air, the game is now alive.

This is why I play poker.

The uncertainty of the future intrigues human beings. It is this fact that makes the game of poker exhilarating. I use this rush to fuel my flame, I use it to burn others to the ground. I play poker because I long for the defeated look of my opponents. The feeling of victory is raw emotion. The feeling of loss, although gut-wrenching at times, can evoke feelings of equal strength.

I don’t care as much for most people as I do for these suits and numbers, faces and hands. If this makes me a degenerate gambler, then so be it. I don’t care whether or not my opponent thinks I’m a young “degen” or a shark in the water, just so long as his chips are in my pocket at the end of the night.

bigblinds&threeofakinds

I am the sorest loser you will ever meet. When I was ten years old, I was ejected from a recreational baseball game for cursing at an umpire from the outfield. I remember sitting out for an entire season either because I was on suspension from the league, or my dad was too embarrassed to bring me back. As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned to cope with losing in other ways. Stress balls and pillow punching usually do the trick, but in poker you sometimes need a different approach.

As I noted in my previous blog, I got my rear-end delivered to me on a silver platter this past week. I decided I needed to reset my systems and take a break from poker for a while. This blog is my first toe in the proverbial “poker pool” since last Monday. I used my time off to focus on school and exercise; I wanted my mind to be fresh for my next assault of the virtual felt.

An extended break from poker is sometimes the remedy for a long run of bad cards and “donk-esque” play. It’s amazing how poor results can influence even the best players at times. During my break, I discovered an article by Wachovia (the player, not the bank) that addressed the issue of mental preparation. The article, titled “The Mental Side of the Game” offers a full circle approach on poker tournament preparation. In the “Pre-Tourney” section of his post, Wachivoa delivers an excellent quote on the mental wear of poker.

“Your mind gets worn down when you play poker. The game exacts a price. If you think you can be a 14 hour a day player, non stop and expect great results, you’re crazy. You need to have some form of mental rest. For some it’s faith. For others family. Some get into a sport or hobby. It can be a combo of them, but the point is you MUST have some form of mental release.”

Wachovia explains that as poker players, we have a mental “gas-tank.” After a certain amount of continuous play, more for some than others, we begin to taper off of our A-game and make decisions based on our mental state. He goes on to say that any form of release from poker is effective. No two players are alike; mental rest techniques can differ from player to player.

I agree one hundred percent with this claim. Poker is, in theory, a mental game. Your only piece of equipment is your brain and you need to maintain it like you would maintain your golf swing form or your free-throw shot. My lack of mental respite was allowing previous played hands to have a much stronger effect on my game and I was making moves that were uncharacteristically bad.

I was letting the past affect the present, and in turn, letting the present affect the future. I was losing chips because of my attitude and I was losing equity because I was losing chips. In essence, I was losing equity because I had a crappy attitude. Then, if you take it one step further, my loss in equity is a gain in equity for everyone else in the tournament. I was making my opponents chips worth more to them because I was angry. Incredible.

After that thought crossed my mind, another gem popped right in. I know I’m not the only one upset; I’ve seen others fill the chat box with spews of hatred. My opponents had in fact given me equity before without me even knowing it! Why in the world, then, would I want to get upset and give it right on back? If I can wrap my head around this concept, I will become more profitable.

As Wachovia mention, focus begins well before the first card is dealt. Focus should begin before you open your poker program, before you sit down, before you wake up in the morning. Focus is a learned habit, developed over time with dedicated practice. These brief breaks from poker and periodic breathers during games will not only influencing my play in the present, but have a profound impact on my play in the future.

That, in essence, is the true game plan of a profitable poker player. Profitable players play for the future as well as the present. I know that if I make correct moves now, or force my opponents to make mistakes, there will be a long-term profit regardless of the outcome in the present. I know that if I make the correct shove with KK enough times, the idiot who calls with Ax will lose money in the long run. I just need to grasp the fact that I will give the equity right back to everyone else in the tournament by tilting and making incorrect moves.

The moral of the story is “embrace the donk”. Do not berate a player after he takes you out with a worse hand; this only serves to educate him. Instead, tell them good hand, and make them feel like they've done something right. The moves your opponents make now will only fatten your pockets in the long run.