As the days grow shockingly shorter, and I find myself as likely to be wearing a hoodie as a T-shirt, it is time to reflect back on my summer of poker. This posting will deal with my “live” play performance (i.e., bricks & mortar); the fourth in this series will discuss my online performance.
While I harbor no delusions of greatness, I think it is safe to say that my game has taken a sizable step forward over the June-August time frame. In cash games I have gone from a losing-to-breakeven player to a generally profitable player. As recently as this spring, I would sit in a cash game and wait for big pocket pairs or big aces to make big moves.
Now, I am much more inclined to play drawing hands aggressively in multi-way pots, hunting for the big payoff when I hit my straight or flush. Additionally, I have begun making sizable, timely bluffs (it certainly makes the game a lot more fun!) Frequently, I am now the one cracking other players’ big pairs—instead of vice versa (witness my earlier blogs describing my repeated experiences of having my Kings or Queens cracked).
My tournament results have been even stronger. Kicking off with a first place finish in a 50-odd person tourney several weeks ago when my buddy Troy was visiting from Bangkok, I have come 1st or 2nd in three of my past seven tourneys. I will be the first to admit that there is more than a little luck involved, especially in tournaments, but there has definitely been an improvement in my tourney play.
There is no doubt that the sheer volume of online play has immensely elevated my live tourney play: I play every stage of the tournament in a completely different fashion—I now look back at my all-in pushes with Q,Q in the early stages of a tourney at the Wynn a year ago and laugh. What was I doing?! Of COURSE I would only get called by KK, AA!
The other key component has been a LOT of reading. I joke that I have been earning my second Master’s degree—but in poker instead of finance. This summer alone, I have read swaths of Super/System II, Sklanky on Hold’em, Sklansky on Advanced Tournaments, FullTilt Tourney Guide, Phil Gordon’s Little Blue Book and Read ‘Em and Reap…not to mention multiple issues of CardPlayer (stellar), PokerPro (mediocre) and Bluff (pants).
While the magazines are of varying quality, the books have been uniformly outstanding—lots of intense reading, but worth both the investment (in both time and money) several times over. Playing is much more fun than studying, but studying seems to improve my play much more quickly—perhaps by a factor of 10x.
(The truly scary thing for me to consider is how much work it has been to become merely competent in NL Hold’em; I can’t fathom the amount of work it would take to become good at Omaha, Razz, Deuce-Seven, etc. The thought of trying to attain competence in those other games makes my head spin. Frankly, it even depresses me a little bit: learning to be a good poker player is like swallowing a porcupine—it is really, really hard to stop part way through!)
The end result of the good (but not great) results in cash play and great (not good) results in tourneys is that I have parlayed a July ATM withdrawl of $300 into a bankroll of well over $2,000. (If I attempt a similar blog in 2010, I will definitely have two bankroll targets: one offline {perhaps $2,000 into $20,000?} and one online {if I am masochistic I might again attempt $100 into $10,000}).
In closing, I would like to reiterate that for all the hard study and pleasant results, I am the first to admit that a large portion of the outcome hinges on none other than Lady Luck. The real test of character and ability will occur when Lady Luck leaves my side, and I go through a brutal losing spell.
If—and only if—I can pull through that, then I will know that I have become a real player.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
LATEsummer’s Night Dream (2 of 4)
As you may recall, the purpose of PokerScars was for the three of us (yes—do recall that at one point not so many months back, I had two partners in crime {or, at least, if you follow the statues, crime in some states}) to elevate our skills and to some day participate in the World Series of Poker (“WSOP”). Alas, my amigos have shuffled off, but here remains the stubborn Badger.
And as it so happens, the Badger was slated to be in Sin City over the 4th of July weekend, for a buddy’s 40th Birthday party—wives, believe it or not, in tow.
The Badger considers himself a beginner-intermediate player (confirmed by reading accounts in CardPlayer of pros three-raising from the Button with hands like 5,6s—I just ain’t quite making that play yet!)
That said, per my prior posting, I was runnin’ pretty good in Vegas, and had some extra cash on hand—what better to do than squander it on a WSOP super-satellite?
My buddy Geoff and I headed over to the Rio, arriving at 2:55 p.m. for the 3 p.m. super-satellite to the big dance. I was promptly told that as I am not a US citizen, I would need a passport to participate. Badger was perplexed, frustrated, and distraught: in a word, on tilt. Luckily, a Harrah’s manager took pity upon the poor (in every sense of the word) Badger. I was registered—my card, which I still have, reads “3:29 p.m.”
By the time I waddled to the Amazon room and checked in to one table, and waited for a seat assignment, it was 3:55 p.m. Needless to say, I had already been blinded down significantly (this was a turbo format tournament).
I was infinitely naïve to think that this would be like my local tourneys in Palm Springs or the Okanagan, where I could waltz in two minutes before cards hit the air, and play.
I sat down with my already-compromised stack and watched the action: there were two aggressive players that seemed to know what they were doing. They did indeed. Within about 10 hands, three of the others at the table had been unceremoniously dispatched. I continued to garner only rags, but was continuing to blind down, so I made a few desperate late-position bluffs. Pfew, no callers.
Perhaps an hour into the tourney, the first break occurred. As I was being helped to my next table, I was informed that half the field had already perished—and I had yet to win a sizable pot.
After the break, the blinds were wrenched higher yet again (these Harrah’s folks really did seem in a rush to end the satellite).
I sat tight, waiting for something, anything I could make a play with. Finally, in the BB, I looked down and saw an Ace-Deuce—my first ace in an hour. I had no illusion about its strength—serious kicker trouble, to be certain!—but, with only about 6 big blinds, I was desperate. A player in middle-position raised to about 4x the big blind. The rest of the players folded around to me.
It was unlikely that a player in middle position would bluff. So he presumably had one of two hands: a pocket pair or a big ace. If it was the former, I would have a chance to catch an ace and double-up. If it was the later, the Badger would be a big, big dog. I held my nose (figuratively) and pushed. He snap-called and turned over A-Jo. While an Ace did hit the board, his Jack kicker held up. Badger was bounced somewhere around the 40th percentile: nothing to be proud of, but not a complete disaster.
Take-aways?
1. (Especially in turbo format tourneys): Get even more aggressive, even earlier—even when card-dead.
2. Next time around: attempt to win a seat by 1-table satellite. I think I am better at that type of format. But I’ll let you know in about 10 months!
3. Arrive on time for poker tourneys--despite what the Poker Brat says, the Poker Gods frown upon dilatory players!!
And as it so happens, the Badger was slated to be in Sin City over the 4th of July weekend, for a buddy’s 40th Birthday party—wives, believe it or not, in tow.
The Badger considers himself a beginner-intermediate player (confirmed by reading accounts in CardPlayer of pros three-raising from the Button with hands like 5,6s—I just ain’t quite making that play yet!)
That said, per my prior posting, I was runnin’ pretty good in Vegas, and had some extra cash on hand—what better to do than squander it on a WSOP super-satellite?
My buddy Geoff and I headed over to the Rio, arriving at 2:55 p.m. for the 3 p.m. super-satellite to the big dance. I was promptly told that as I am not a US citizen, I would need a passport to participate. Badger was perplexed, frustrated, and distraught: in a word, on tilt. Luckily, a Harrah’s manager took pity upon the poor (in every sense of the word) Badger. I was registered—my card, which I still have, reads “3:29 p.m.”
By the time I waddled to the Amazon room and checked in to one table, and waited for a seat assignment, it was 3:55 p.m. Needless to say, I had already been blinded down significantly (this was a turbo format tournament).
I was infinitely naïve to think that this would be like my local tourneys in Palm Springs or the Okanagan, where I could waltz in two minutes before cards hit the air, and play.
I sat down with my already-compromised stack and watched the action: there were two aggressive players that seemed to know what they were doing. They did indeed. Within about 10 hands, three of the others at the table had been unceremoniously dispatched. I continued to garner only rags, but was continuing to blind down, so I made a few desperate late-position bluffs. Pfew, no callers.
Perhaps an hour into the tourney, the first break occurred. As I was being helped to my next table, I was informed that half the field had already perished—and I had yet to win a sizable pot.
After the break, the blinds were wrenched higher yet again (these Harrah’s folks really did seem in a rush to end the satellite).
I sat tight, waiting for something, anything I could make a play with. Finally, in the BB, I looked down and saw an Ace-Deuce—my first ace in an hour. I had no illusion about its strength—serious kicker trouble, to be certain!—but, with only about 6 big blinds, I was desperate. A player in middle-position raised to about 4x the big blind. The rest of the players folded around to me.
It was unlikely that a player in middle position would bluff. So he presumably had one of two hands: a pocket pair or a big ace. If it was the former, I would have a chance to catch an ace and double-up. If it was the later, the Badger would be a big, big dog. I held my nose (figuratively) and pushed. He snap-called and turned over A-Jo. While an Ace did hit the board, his Jack kicker held up. Badger was bounced somewhere around the 40th percentile: nothing to be proud of, but not a complete disaster.
Take-aways?
1. (Especially in turbo format tourneys): Get even more aggressive, even earlier—even when card-dead.
2. Next time around: attempt to win a seat by 1-table satellite. I think I am better at that type of format. But I’ll let you know in about 10 months!
3. Arrive on time for poker tourneys--despite what the Poker Brat says, the Poker Gods frown upon dilatory players!!
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