Last things first. I have decided to go play a couple events at the World Series Of Poker next week. I had intended to all along, and then decided not to just cause I'm away a lot as it is and only 10% of the field cashes so odds are it's just gonna cost me money. But as the hype built (at least for those of us who go to poker websites, I don't think the hype's been building at the local Starbucks) I started really feeling the itch to go. I thought about it a lot more, and I think it's a good decision for a bunch of reasons which I won't go into here (I know, if you don't get into it in a blog, where will you get into it -- but I just don't feel like splaining). I'm going directly after our Boise gig on Saturday, and then flying back up to the Portland gig next Friday. Just a quick jaunt, but I'll get into events #4 and #7. Hoping for a cash, of course, or at least to make my entry fees back in the cash games. But regardless, looking forward to the experience.
So, on with the shows. Recent movies I've seen, reviewed quickly.
Star Trek -- Terrible. But everybody loves it. Went with my wife and her sister. They loved it. Every critic loved it. I think I might have been in a bad mood, or maybe had too high expectations or something. Cause to me it was just one cliched line or plot turn after another. It was the Abrams Reel Of Movie Cliches. Then about a week later, I was at the cinema again, and two guys in the bathroom were having a discussion. And the first guy is going to Star Trek, and the second guy tells him, "just don't give up on it in the first half, it gets way better". Which is, like, entirely the complete opposite of reality (parts of the first half were sort of bearable). And the first guy says, "What did you think of the new Spock?" And the second guy, who's this greasy little middle-aged fella, looks like he steals change from the cups of blind beggars, says "well, I'm an actor, so I was approaching it more in terms of craft..." He kept going, but I was leaving the bathroom. I don't know why, but that conversation made me dislike the movie considerably more. I'll still go to the sequel.
Wolverine/X-Men Origins/Whatever It's Called -- Saw this one in Spain. It was the only one in English. Unlike Italy and France, where they show the movies in English with subtitles, in Spain they dub them into Spanish. Which meant we saw less movies in Spain than we normally do on vacation. Anyway, this sucked too. But it didn't seem to be trying as hard as Star Trek, so I didn't dislike it as much. It does seem caught halfway between the superhero movies of the Michael Keaton Batman era and the Christian Bale Batman era. You know, you're supposed to be dark and realistic and gritty now. And so everybody's trying for that. But if you don't pull it off, you're kind of in this nether region where you're probably closest to the cartoony movies, but that wasn't really what you were going for, so you're orphaned.
Terminator -- Speaking of Christian Bale. I actually quite enjoyed this. It's loud and very things blow up a lot, and there is about the same relationship between plot and action as porn movies have between plot and sex. Just enough story to justify the explosions. Basically the story can be reduced to, the humans win the day, but there's plenty of fight left in the machines (read, the franchise). Gotta say I don't really like, for the most part, movies with time travel elements. There isn't any actual time travel in this movie, but there's a lot of speculation over how time travel not actually contained herein will affect present/future events. Kind of just gets distracting, trying to sort through the ramifications.
Duplicity -- Saw this one in Rome. Not the most original movie I've ever seen, but thought it was tight, well-acted, moved along nicely and had a reasonably good twist. Two thumbs up.
Angels & Demons -- A big improvement on the DaVinci Code. Just as preposterous, but much more entertaining. And a really good twist at the end. I honestly think one of the best twists I've seen in a movie, not Sixth Sense level but the tier below, in that it affords you the opportunity to revisit almost the entire plot with a new perspective. Much better than the vastly overrated "Usual Suspects" twist, which basically makes you feel like you just wasted two hours. I mean, I know it's a movie. But play fair.
Sunshine Cleaning -- Not terrible, just kind of boring. If you like low-key movies and think quirky = good than by all means. But yeah, definitely not terrible.
Fighting -- Terrence Howard is one of those guys I'll go to a movie just cause he's in it. Plus something in the trailer made me think this could be pretty good. I later read in a Terrence Howard interview that this was like 'Midnight Cowboy' only with fighting. Not so much. Also he kind of seemed strange in the interview. Also I'm starting to think he might be a little one-note. But I'll definitely go to his next movie, at least. I'm not committing past that. Anyway. I liked lots about the movie, but it was a little cheesy. A few characters you'd expect to find on the set of Scarface. They never get that volatile, but I'm sure they do off screen.
I Love You, Man -- Some pretty good laughs but overall a movie that just didn't need to get made.
Adventureland -- Pre-MIchael Cera this probably would have seemed pretty original. Now it's not original, but that doesn't mean it's not good. Pretty lightweight, don't think it's destined to be a classic or anything, but nice and relaxed and pretty entertaining. Read somewhere that Ryan Reynolds was badly miscast as he pseudo-rock star maintenance man, but I thought he nailed it. And I generally think he's pretty bad (man, that one coming up with Sandra Bullock looks beyond reasonable; why can't she be in a good movie, like, once). Also, I laughed pretty hard when the one teenaged nerd calls no one in particular "Fucking Sadists" for repeatedly playing "Rock Me Amadeus". Which reminds me. Trevor met the girl who played keyboards on that track. Unless she was lying. Which people do. And which she may have been, but not necessarily.
Life On Mars -- Not a movie. A TV show. It got cancelled after one year, which the producers knew was going to happen, so they were able to wrap it all up nicely. I watched it in fits and starts on the DVR, and missed some episodes, but my overall feeling was that it should be nominated for some kind of award. An award, not for like, 'excellent in broadcasting' but maybe more 'good broadcasting'. Buy it on DVD if it's reasonably priced.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Random Poker Notes
-- been moving a lot between 200NL and 100NL with my yo-yo of a bankroll. it seems to me the regs are much, much tougher at 200NL but it is maybe even a little easier to find extremely bad fish. when i table select between the two levels, i find it hard to avoid the 200NL tables just because there seem to be more of them with spewtards. whether that, in the long run, makes up for the fact that the regulars destroy me, i'm not sure.
-- a line i see all the time at 100NL but don't seem to see as often at 200NL is c/r flop and then giving up on the turn. against certain player types I think it's profitable to call flop c/r with ATC and fire the turn if they check. i also notice that a huge amount of my c/r's get called, but not very often does the turn get called if i barrel. so i think other people are noticing how prevalent this line is as well. i think going for a turn c/r after c/r'ing the flop is a very effective value line right now, especially if the turn bet would be remotely close to committing villain.
-- i float too much. have noticed some of the reg's have started to c/r me on the turn. i'm probably going to have to start getting it in lighter in those spots, which kind of sucks. suppose i could float less too.
-- it should be obvious, but all these hands later it's finally fully sinking in that I can value bet the 40/8 three streets relatively light, but if they play back at me my TPWK is no good. probably TPTK is no good. about three or four times lately I've have AK on an K-10-4 or K-8-2 rainbow board and had a calling station jam all-in for like 80 bb's over my cbet. i always snap off, and it's always two pair. i don't mind that if the guy's a maniac, but if his AF is like 0.6 I'm probably never good. basically, to oversimplify, with top pair vs passive fish i should be looking to b/f 3 streets, vs maniac fish i should be looking to c/c 3 streets.
-- slowplaying sucks. it might be the single most unsatisfying thing in poker to flop huge, play it slow to grab a street or two of value, and realize when you see his cards you could have easily gotten all-in on the flop.
-- a line i see all the time at 100NL but don't seem to see as often at 200NL is c/r flop and then giving up on the turn. against certain player types I think it's profitable to call flop c/r with ATC and fire the turn if they check. i also notice that a huge amount of my c/r's get called, but not very often does the turn get called if i barrel. so i think other people are noticing how prevalent this line is as well. i think going for a turn c/r after c/r'ing the flop is a very effective value line right now, especially if the turn bet would be remotely close to committing villain.
-- i float too much. have noticed some of the reg's have started to c/r me on the turn. i'm probably going to have to start getting it in lighter in those spots, which kind of sucks. suppose i could float less too.
-- it should be obvious, but all these hands later it's finally fully sinking in that I can value bet the 40/8 three streets relatively light, but if they play back at me my TPWK is no good. probably TPTK is no good. about three or four times lately I've have AK on an K-10-4 or K-8-2 rainbow board and had a calling station jam all-in for like 80 bb's over my cbet. i always snap off, and it's always two pair. i don't mind that if the guy's a maniac, but if his AF is like 0.6 I'm probably never good. basically, to oversimplify, with top pair vs passive fish i should be looking to b/f 3 streets, vs maniac fish i should be looking to c/c 3 streets.
-- slowplaying sucks. it might be the single most unsatisfying thing in poker to flop huge, play it slow to grab a street or two of value, and realize when you see his cards you could have easily gotten all-in on the flop.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Turns Out Playing Music Is Fun
So we played, I think, April 8 in Austin, TX. And then last Friday night, which was May 22, in Twisp, WA. In between, I don't think I played one note of music, not so much as plinking on a piano. I am certain that is the longest I have gone without playing a musical instrument in about 30 years.
Ah, dangit, just remembered playing my sister's mini birthday guitar when we were over there babysitting their kids. Okay, so it's the longest I've gone without playing a musical instrument with the exception of five minutes on guitar in about 30 years. The basic point remains the same. It's been forever, and it's never been forever before.
I've been doing it so long, I often honestly feel like I can't answer whether I still want to be doing it. It's like anything else, I guess. Do it often enough and at least some of the specialness will fade. Like when you hear professional athletes say they just didn't have it a certain night. And you're thinking, geez, you get paid $Xmillion per year to play a game and get hero-worshipped and yet you somehow couldn't get it up tonight? Why don't you try rice farming in China for a year or so and see if bringing it every night to the ball park doesn't seem that unreasonable an expectation?
There are definitely times when I still absolutely love it. When it's good, it's still better than any other job I can imagine having. It's just when it's challenging, and you're far away from your loved ones, you wonder. On balance, all things considered, do I still want to do this?
I didn't actively miss it, during my personal record breaking absence. I did notice I started cranking tunes on my iPod instead of listening to podcasts, or listening to the rock station in the car instead of sports talk (of course, the Canucks had been eliminated, so my data here could be skewed -- but there did seem to be some sort of trend).
And then we finally took the stage again. Even though we were running really late due to border delays so there was some of the sort of chaos that tends to deflate gigs. And even though the crowd was not huge, and the show never really blew up. And even though the wife and I were having cell phone problems, which made the already terrible situation of sleeping in different towns that much worse. Despite all those things, I pretty much instantly felt sure that I still want to do this. I don't know exactly how the band's going to move forward, what with Trevor's baby here and mine on the way and a lot of miles already behind us. I do know that it seems people are just as interested in coming to see us play as they ever were. And I think I know that as long as anybody's interested, I still want to get up on stage and play music.
At least from time to time.
Ah, dangit, just remembered playing my sister's mini birthday guitar when we were over there babysitting their kids. Okay, so it's the longest I've gone without playing a musical instrument with the exception of five minutes on guitar in about 30 years. The basic point remains the same. It's been forever, and it's never been forever before.
I've been doing it so long, I often honestly feel like I can't answer whether I still want to be doing it. It's like anything else, I guess. Do it often enough and at least some of the specialness will fade. Like when you hear professional athletes say they just didn't have it a certain night. And you're thinking, geez, you get paid $Xmillion per year to play a game and get hero-worshipped and yet you somehow couldn't get it up tonight? Why don't you try rice farming in China for a year or so and see if bringing it every night to the ball park doesn't seem that unreasonable an expectation?
There are definitely times when I still absolutely love it. When it's good, it's still better than any other job I can imagine having. It's just when it's challenging, and you're far away from your loved ones, you wonder. On balance, all things considered, do I still want to do this?
I didn't actively miss it, during my personal record breaking absence. I did notice I started cranking tunes on my iPod instead of listening to podcasts, or listening to the rock station in the car instead of sports talk (of course, the Canucks had been eliminated, so my data here could be skewed -- but there did seem to be some sort of trend).
And then we finally took the stage again. Even though we were running really late due to border delays so there was some of the sort of chaos that tends to deflate gigs. And even though the crowd was not huge, and the show never really blew up. And even though the wife and I were having cell phone problems, which made the already terrible situation of sleeping in different towns that much worse. Despite all those things, I pretty much instantly felt sure that I still want to do this. I don't know exactly how the band's going to move forward, what with Trevor's baby here and mine on the way and a lot of miles already behind us. I do know that it seems people are just as interested in coming to see us play as they ever were. And I think I know that as long as anybody's interested, I still want to get up on stage and play music.
At least from time to time.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
My Baby's Heartbeat Does 158
There's this scene in the surprisingly not terrible movie "Marley And Me" where they are at the doctor's for the ultrasound and it turns out there's no baby there. I dunno, I wasn't paying that much attention. I'm not sure if she was never pregnant, or if something had gone wrong. I just know it was bad. Given how bizarre it is to think your very own offspring is being grown in your wife's stomach, I don't think it's all that unnatural to worry it could happen to you.
So it was somewhat comforting, very exciting, and a little weird to hear that tiny heart beating away. Probably only heard it for maybe five seconds as the strangely clinical midwife wrote down '158' and moved on to the next item on her list. I don't see why she couldn't just leave the apparatus going for the duration of our session. I could have held it there. I would have not grown weary.
And besides, it would have given me something to do. I didn't have a lot of responsibilities during the session with the midwife. In fact, I was left alone in the room for about 15 or 20 minutes while Rachel was being examined elsewhere. As I sat staring at the walls, I wondered if it was now okay to use my iPhone. I had been expressly forbidden from interacting with it in anyway while we were there (fiddling with the thing is basically like a nervous habit at this point), but surely that didn't apply to time spent alone in a windowless room. Even beyond spousal instructions, though, I wondered what was appropriate. What 'should' I be doing right now, as an expectant father, left alone in a room in a somewhat progressive midwife clinic (you can tell it's progressive cause you have to take your shoes off). Maybe some prayer or meditation? Write a song? Paint something? I surely do not know, but I am fairly certain it does not involve my iPhone (although there must be an app for that). But as I checked my stocks, my email, the baseball scores, the weather in Shanghai (it really is a technological marvel), I continued to muse over what it was I really should be doing. I never got close to an answer, but I sure as shootin' (that's a saying, you can look it up) came to realize how much I didn't like not knowing.
Cause the thing is, when you find out you're gonna be a dad, of course you're thrilled and excited and overjoyed and whatnot, but there's also that whole scared shitless thing going on, it kind of keeps things grounded a little bit. I know it's perfectly normal to feel this way, incidentally. I read about it in a book. That's why I phrased it in the casual second person manner, by the way, even though I was talking about myself. Cause it's perfectly normal.
It's mainly a vague feeling, this worry. Sure it can crystallize into some specific thoughts, like "what if I run out of cash?" Or the more crude, but still valid, "what if dirty diapers make me gag?" But at the midwife clinic today I realized it all boils down to this: "what if I don't know what to do?"
The obvious answer is, well, I'll learn. That parenting is necessarily a learn as you go proposition and all new parents feel doubt. But, frankly, that's cold comfort.
Anything else in life, it’s not that you don’t want to be great, but at the end of the day you can accept varying degrees of aptitude/achievement. Like, I know I’m really just an okay musician. But it’s worked out okay for me. And I’m fine with it. And I don’t even really aspire to being a great poker player. I just want to be a profitable one. But a dad? Come on.
There is no alternative. I have to be a great dad. When my kid is fully (or partially, for that matter) grown, I don’t want to be able to look at any issue, any shortcoming, and realize it’s cause I missed that part of my dadhood responsibilities. Part of me knows this is ridiculous. You can’t be perfect, you are inevitably going to fail your kid in some way or another. But another part of me, the main part in fact, says fuck that. I need to be a great dad.
I know I won’t lack for motivation. I know I can shelve a lifetime of selfishness. I have little doubt that I’m going to be crazy about my offspring and up for whatever sacrifice. But what freaks me out is maybe it won’t be entirely up to my will. Maybe I’ll find the spirit willing but the flesh weak, as it were. More specifically, maybe I won’t have the resources. Or maybe sometimes, maybe often, I just won’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
It’s a scary, scary thought. Right now it’s never far from the front of my brain.. And I’m damn sure there’s no app for it.
So it was somewhat comforting, very exciting, and a little weird to hear that tiny heart beating away. Probably only heard it for maybe five seconds as the strangely clinical midwife wrote down '158' and moved on to the next item on her list. I don't see why she couldn't just leave the apparatus going for the duration of our session. I could have held it there. I would have not grown weary.
And besides, it would have given me something to do. I didn't have a lot of responsibilities during the session with the midwife. In fact, I was left alone in the room for about 15 or 20 minutes while Rachel was being examined elsewhere. As I sat staring at the walls, I wondered if it was now okay to use my iPhone. I had been expressly forbidden from interacting with it in anyway while we were there (fiddling with the thing is basically like a nervous habit at this point), but surely that didn't apply to time spent alone in a windowless room. Even beyond spousal instructions, though, I wondered what was appropriate. What 'should' I be doing right now, as an expectant father, left alone in a room in a somewhat progressive midwife clinic (you can tell it's progressive cause you have to take your shoes off). Maybe some prayer or meditation? Write a song? Paint something? I surely do not know, but I am fairly certain it does not involve my iPhone (although there must be an app for that). But as I checked my stocks, my email, the baseball scores, the weather in Shanghai (it really is a technological marvel), I continued to muse over what it was I really should be doing. I never got close to an answer, but I sure as shootin' (that's a saying, you can look it up) came to realize how much I didn't like not knowing.
Cause the thing is, when you find out you're gonna be a dad, of course you're thrilled and excited and overjoyed and whatnot, but there's also that whole scared shitless thing going on, it kind of keeps things grounded a little bit. I know it's perfectly normal to feel this way, incidentally. I read about it in a book. That's why I phrased it in the casual second person manner, by the way, even though I was talking about myself. Cause it's perfectly normal.
It's mainly a vague feeling, this worry. Sure it can crystallize into some specific thoughts, like "what if I run out of cash?" Or the more crude, but still valid, "what if dirty diapers make me gag?" But at the midwife clinic today I realized it all boils down to this: "what if I don't know what to do?"
The obvious answer is, well, I'll learn. That parenting is necessarily a learn as you go proposition and all new parents feel doubt. But, frankly, that's cold comfort.
Anything else in life, it’s not that you don’t want to be great, but at the end of the day you can accept varying degrees of aptitude/achievement. Like, I know I’m really just an okay musician. But it’s worked out okay for me. And I’m fine with it. And I don’t even really aspire to being a great poker player. I just want to be a profitable one. But a dad? Come on.
There is no alternative. I have to be a great dad. When my kid is fully (or partially, for that matter) grown, I don’t want to be able to look at any issue, any shortcoming, and realize it’s cause I missed that part of my dadhood responsibilities. Part of me knows this is ridiculous. You can’t be perfect, you are inevitably going to fail your kid in some way or another. But another part of me, the main part in fact, says fuck that. I need to be a great dad.
I know I won’t lack for motivation. I know I can shelve a lifetime of selfishness. I have little doubt that I’m going to be crazy about my offspring and up for whatever sacrifice. But what freaks me out is maybe it won’t be entirely up to my will. Maybe I’ll find the spirit willing but the flesh weak, as it were. More specifically, maybe I won’t have the resources. Or maybe sometimes, maybe often, I just won’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
It’s a scary, scary thought. Right now it’s never far from the front of my brain.. And I’m damn sure there’s no app for it.
Back In The Show (for a cup of coffee at least)
It hasn't felt like a heater, but I've been winning steadily since reaching the nadir of the downswing about a week ago. Lo and behold, when I logged into today I had crossed my self-imposed threshold for mixing 200NL into my game selection. For me, for now, 200NL is the major leagues. So given that I've played pretty well grinding my way back, and given that I do think of 200NL as a big deal, you would think I would definitely have my "A" game tonight. Alas, the opposite came to pass as I played my worst poker of the last couple weeks. Was about where I've been preflop in terms of VPIP, but for some reason I was calling loads. Ended up around 20/12. One of those sessions where I knew I was calling too much and not raising enough, yet just kept doing it. Plus right back to my old faithful leak of calling WAY too many 3bets. Thought I had that one going in the right direction. Hopefully it's a two steps forward one step back type of deal. Cause tonight I was just terrible in that department.
I also didn't catch many cards, and when I did hit a flop it seemed a reg hit it a bit harder than me. So, then, how am I up three buy-ins? Suckouts, baby, suckouts. If the regs didn't like me before, they really hate me now. My Jacks rivered a set against KK's (that one wasn't too bad, he was a very frequent 3-bettor and we got it in pre, but still). I called a 3-bet with AQ and eventually got it in against AK on an AKJx board with three hearts (I had the queen of hearts) and rivered the flush. And the worst one, I got totally powned by a reg who made a smallish 4-bet. I was new to the table and we had already mixed it up in one or two spots, but nowhere near enough for me to assume he was making a move here yet (I think I was actually influenced by reading in a forum that he was kind of a hothead, but that's not near enough reason either). I had AJ, and decided to call the 4bet and get it in with top pair. Board was Jxx rainbow, I got it in against his KK, I rivered the ace. He did ream me out in chat, so I guess the hothead stuff was accurate anyway. I just told him he was right, cause he was.
I also managed to get paid when I flopped big against donkeys, and of course I got sucked out on a few times myself. But end of the day, despite playing fairly terrible, I had a small but decent profit. I'll consider it a respite, I'm not back in the minors yet even though my performance would seem to dictate I should be. The important question, of course, is why did my game go to shit when it should have, if anything, been sharper than normal?
It's a pretty easy answer, actually. When I'm way down, not really in sight of the magic number where I start withdrawing again, it's very easy for me to just focus on playing. Forget about the cashier page, forget about results, cause they're not close to mattering in terms of real life $ anyway. If I am worried about them at all, it's more in the sense of not wanting to go down any further than in the sense of hoping for a big score. Not that that's a healthy attitude either, but it's way less harmful, for me in particular, than the opposite. Now that I'm at a point where hypothetically a heater could put me into withdrawal territory again, I have a way harder time just focussing on the hand in front of me. I'm constantly watching my balance.
The main problem with that is the loss of focus. Most of these errant calls are made without 100% attention. I'm constantly finding myself in postflop situations where I don't even remember the preflop action. Did I raise or call? How did I get here (to sorta quote David Byrne)? That's brutal. I mean, when you're playing a lot of tables that will happen once in a while, but this is a different thing.
A second problem is that it makes me want to make what I know are slightly (or even not slightly) -EV plays in exchange for the chance at a big payoff. I definitely learned while I was grinding my roll back up, you don't have to take huge risks on a hand by hand basis. Just be patient, wait for your big hands, and while they won't always get paid when they do it'll be pure profit cause you weren't spewing chips splashing around before and after.
I have so far survived my lack of focus when winning problem, partly due to a long-term case of rungood, and partly due to the fact that you don't have to play perfect to make money (you just have to play better than enough of your competition). But obviously not having my "A" game whenever my roll is in good shape is not an acceptable long-term situation. But finding the problem is easy. Finding the solution, not so much.
I also didn't catch many cards, and when I did hit a flop it seemed a reg hit it a bit harder than me. So, then, how am I up three buy-ins? Suckouts, baby, suckouts. If the regs didn't like me before, they really hate me now. My Jacks rivered a set against KK's (that one wasn't too bad, he was a very frequent 3-bettor and we got it in pre, but still). I called a 3-bet with AQ and eventually got it in against AK on an AKJx board with three hearts (I had the queen of hearts) and rivered the flush. And the worst one, I got totally powned by a reg who made a smallish 4-bet. I was new to the table and we had already mixed it up in one or two spots, but nowhere near enough for me to assume he was making a move here yet (I think I was actually influenced by reading in a forum that he was kind of a hothead, but that's not near enough reason either). I had AJ, and decided to call the 4bet and get it in with top pair. Board was Jxx rainbow, I got it in against his KK, I rivered the ace. He did ream me out in chat, so I guess the hothead stuff was accurate anyway. I just told him he was right, cause he was.
I also managed to get paid when I flopped big against donkeys, and of course I got sucked out on a few times myself. But end of the day, despite playing fairly terrible, I had a small but decent profit. I'll consider it a respite, I'm not back in the minors yet even though my performance would seem to dictate I should be. The important question, of course, is why did my game go to shit when it should have, if anything, been sharper than normal?
It's a pretty easy answer, actually. When I'm way down, not really in sight of the magic number where I start withdrawing again, it's very easy for me to just focus on playing. Forget about the cashier page, forget about results, cause they're not close to mattering in terms of real life $ anyway. If I am worried about them at all, it's more in the sense of not wanting to go down any further than in the sense of hoping for a big score. Not that that's a healthy attitude either, but it's way less harmful, for me in particular, than the opposite. Now that I'm at a point where hypothetically a heater could put me into withdrawal territory again, I have a way harder time just focussing on the hand in front of me. I'm constantly watching my balance.
The main problem with that is the loss of focus. Most of these errant calls are made without 100% attention. I'm constantly finding myself in postflop situations where I don't even remember the preflop action. Did I raise or call? How did I get here (to sorta quote David Byrne)? That's brutal. I mean, when you're playing a lot of tables that will happen once in a while, but this is a different thing.
A second problem is that it makes me want to make what I know are slightly (or even not slightly) -EV plays in exchange for the chance at a big payoff. I definitely learned while I was grinding my roll back up, you don't have to take huge risks on a hand by hand basis. Just be patient, wait for your big hands, and while they won't always get paid when they do it'll be pure profit cause you weren't spewing chips splashing around before and after.
I have so far survived my lack of focus when winning problem, partly due to a long-term case of rungood, and partly due to the fact that you don't have to play perfect to make money (you just have to play better than enough of your competition). But obviously not having my "A" game whenever my roll is in good shape is not an acceptable long-term situation. But finding the problem is easy. Finding the solution, not so much.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Surviving Downswings
Sometimes I pause to consider whether a certain associate/relation/whatnot would make a good poker player. Generally speaking it's because someone has gotten a sense of the free poker moneyz I got rolling in and wants to figure out how to get themselves some, although sometimes I just wonder of my own volition. And I've realized, through these considerations, that I think most anyone is smart enough to do it. I'm sure there are exceptions, but at least among the people I know I think the minimum intelligence requirement is, in the main, easily met.
But that doesn't mean I think most of them could do it. I think the opposite, in fact. And there's a bunch of reasons for that, often involving having the time, and patience, being realistic, humble, confident, focussed, disciplined, etc. The biggest factor, though, is having what the old-time grinders (and some new school ones, too) call 'heart'. I've mainly taken it to mean having the guts to gamble it up. To get a lot of money in the middle without the nuts, for example. And that's definitely a requirement. You can't be thinking about what you could otherwise do with the money you just lost (or what you'll do with what you won, for that matter). It's just your bankroll, business capital. This is all fairly obvious. I think most reasonable people could get themselves to a place where they have this type of 'heart'. Just make sure you're properly bankrolled and you'll pretty quickly get used to the variance (at least the most extremely short term variety).
The harder part, in my humble opinion (or imho, as they say on the interwebz) is handling the middle and long-term variance. Which is under my consideration at this moment because I am just coming out of (at least I hope I'm coming out of) my worse stretch since poker became a profitable game for me. In terms of dollars, anyway. As I'm at higher stakes than I was previously it feels like more, although I'm not sure in terms of BB's. But whatever. That's not the point.
I have gotten much better at handling the downswings, but it still does feel like a kick in the teeth when you bleed bankroll for a few sessions in a row. For a couple obvious reasons.
First of all, there's the fact that you're losing money. Fortunately my bankroll is in order, my plan for downswings seems solid, and so far my discipline in heeding the plan hasn't failed me. So I'm not actually losing any real life money. But even though I understand the bankroll as working capital thing, and even though I know that downswings are an inevitable part of the game, I still can't help but think about the fact that a $1000 losing session (for example) is ultimately a thousand bucks I'll never see again. It's an emotional reaction, not a rational one (even if it is somewhat logical), and it's a harmful way to view it. But view it that way I do, at least more than I should.
Secondly, and probably the main thing here, is the inevitable doubting of abilities. Was I just on a 300k hand heater? Or, alternatively, is my game slipping now? I think almost all poker players have to grapple with the questions, to varying degrees of course. For me, I'm already quite aware of my shortcomings as a poker player. (In fact, it's generally a source of excitement because I'm finding the games -- big picture -- profitable right now yet feel I can get so much better). So when I'm in a downswing it's not a big leap for me to start believing I'm actually, skill-wise, a losing player at the stakes I play. That I straight up suck. Of course I know downswings, and big ones, can and do happen to the very best of players. But that's small comfort when you're in the middle of one. When you are booking losing sessions, I don't think you can feel fully confident that winning sessions are more likely until they start appearing again.
I'm never going to be able to laugh off this type of variance entirely, I know that. I mean, if you purvey a sample of blogs and articles from the most successful online players it won't be long till you come across their own (sometimes agonized) takes on dealing with variance, handling losing streaks. It's simply part of the game, and it's terrible. But I know that handling it as best I can is one of the most important parts of being an online poker pro. And it's easily the single most important part of insulating myself from ever making decisions that cost 'real life' money.
The kind of 'heart' needed to survive the downswings, then, is a little different from the kind needed to make a huge bluff or to call a river shove with 3rd pair. But it's so important. And I'm working on it hard.
I remind myself that losing streaks are for many players, and definitely for me, the time when they have breakthroughs in their games. It's hard to be fully self-critical when you're winning every session, or at least for the criticism to really sink in. But when you're losing, you're magically more receptive. So I know I'll come out of it a better player.
I remind myself that these things are not preordained, that as much as I want to see patterns to these streaks, they don't really exist. Only in hindsight can I call it a streak.
And I remind myself that these are ultimately the moments I can be most confident a poker career is not a foolish pursuit. When I follow my self-imposed guidelines for dropping down stakes, and stay down till I satisfy my own requirements, and when I eventually see my bankroll replenished, without aid of any real life money? That's when I start thinking I might not suck after all.
But that doesn't mean I think most of them could do it. I think the opposite, in fact. And there's a bunch of reasons for that, often involving having the time, and patience, being realistic, humble, confident, focussed, disciplined, etc. The biggest factor, though, is having what the old-time grinders (and some new school ones, too) call 'heart'. I've mainly taken it to mean having the guts to gamble it up. To get a lot of money in the middle without the nuts, for example. And that's definitely a requirement. You can't be thinking about what you could otherwise do with the money you just lost (or what you'll do with what you won, for that matter). It's just your bankroll, business capital. This is all fairly obvious. I think most reasonable people could get themselves to a place where they have this type of 'heart'. Just make sure you're properly bankrolled and you'll pretty quickly get used to the variance (at least the most extremely short term variety).
The harder part, in my humble opinion (or imho, as they say on the interwebz) is handling the middle and long-term variance. Which is under my consideration at this moment because I am just coming out of (at least I hope I'm coming out of) my worse stretch since poker became a profitable game for me. In terms of dollars, anyway. As I'm at higher stakes than I was previously it feels like more, although I'm not sure in terms of BB's. But whatever. That's not the point.
I have gotten much better at handling the downswings, but it still does feel like a kick in the teeth when you bleed bankroll for a few sessions in a row. For a couple obvious reasons.
First of all, there's the fact that you're losing money. Fortunately my bankroll is in order, my plan for downswings seems solid, and so far my discipline in heeding the plan hasn't failed me. So I'm not actually losing any real life money. But even though I understand the bankroll as working capital thing, and even though I know that downswings are an inevitable part of the game, I still can't help but think about the fact that a $1000 losing session (for example) is ultimately a thousand bucks I'll never see again. It's an emotional reaction, not a rational one (even if it is somewhat logical), and it's a harmful way to view it. But view it that way I do, at least more than I should.
Secondly, and probably the main thing here, is the inevitable doubting of abilities. Was I just on a 300k hand heater? Or, alternatively, is my game slipping now? I think almost all poker players have to grapple with the questions, to varying degrees of course. For me, I'm already quite aware of my shortcomings as a poker player. (In fact, it's generally a source of excitement because I'm finding the games -- big picture -- profitable right now yet feel I can get so much better). So when I'm in a downswing it's not a big leap for me to start believing I'm actually, skill-wise, a losing player at the stakes I play. That I straight up suck. Of course I know downswings, and big ones, can and do happen to the very best of players. But that's small comfort when you're in the middle of one. When you are booking losing sessions, I don't think you can feel fully confident that winning sessions are more likely until they start appearing again.
I'm never going to be able to laugh off this type of variance entirely, I know that. I mean, if you purvey a sample of blogs and articles from the most successful online players it won't be long till you come across their own (sometimes agonized) takes on dealing with variance, handling losing streaks. It's simply part of the game, and it's terrible. But I know that handling it as best I can is one of the most important parts of being an online poker pro. And it's easily the single most important part of insulating myself from ever making decisions that cost 'real life' money.
The kind of 'heart' needed to survive the downswings, then, is a little different from the kind needed to make a huge bluff or to call a river shove with 3rd pair. But it's so important. And I'm working on it hard.
I remind myself that losing streaks are for many players, and definitely for me, the time when they have breakthroughs in their games. It's hard to be fully self-critical when you're winning every session, or at least for the criticism to really sink in. But when you're losing, you're magically more receptive. So I know I'll come out of it a better player.
I remind myself that these things are not preordained, that as much as I want to see patterns to these streaks, they don't really exist. Only in hindsight can I call it a streak.
And I remind myself that these are ultimately the moments I can be most confident a poker career is not a foolish pursuit. When I follow my self-imposed guidelines for dropping down stakes, and stay down till I satisfy my own requirements, and when I eventually see my bankroll replenished, without aid of any real life money? That's when I start thinking I might not suck after all.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Sometimes I Lose Shit
So the other day I'm walking around beautiful downtown Vancouver, British Columbia, and it occurs to me that a fountain soda would be absolutely delightful. So I go to my local McDonald's (which I have visited with alarming frequency since returning from the vacation), and order myself a large soda. And when I go to pay, I have no paper money in my pocket. I had plenty of change, but didn't want to use that because the wife and I put our change in a jar and then roll it up and the next thing you know you got enough for the next vacation. I had just gone to the bank on other business like five minutes earlier, and when I was there I know I had paper money. But it's suddenly vanished. So I dejectedly settle up with coins and head home.
At the homestead I take every last thing out of my pockets, and there is simply no paper money. I know exactly how much I had, including a certain amount of US currency, and it's just not there. So whatever. I guess I lost it, it's probably on the street somewhere. Hardly the first time for me. The next day I go to the bank, cause I can't very well be walking around with just lint in my pockets. And I withdraw some cash, and I put it in my left pocket, and I put my bank card back in my right pocket. And as I do, I feel something, and sure enough it's my missing cash. I want you to understand, I searched for this money for like fifteen minutes. And my pockets are just not that big. I would be certain somebody was fucking with me, except there just wasn't any opportunity for anyone to do so. Plus, it's always been this way with me. I lose all sorts of things, all the time, in ways that beggar belief. I know it drives people in my life batty, and I feel for them. But believe me. It's no picnic from my perspective either. Constantly losing things blows. I assure you, if you ever find yourself with occasion to be waylaid or derailed by my seemingly singular ability to make important things disappear: it's hurting me more than it's hurting you.
My personal favorite (read "least favorite") recent episode of this ilk was a couple months back in Austin, TX. We needed a couple money orders for various band bills, so Trevor and I walked up to this grocery store a click or two down the road. We got the money orders, I tore off the stubs and gave them to Trevor (he holds on to them lest they got awol in the mail or whatnot), and we walked back to the hotel. When we got there, the money orders were nowhere to be found. Bear in mind, we made no stops, not even for a fountain drink. They were just gone. It makes absolutely no sense, but it's a gift I have.
I'm also good at dropping things. I'd talk about that for a while, but I've been prattling on so long I'm sure you're starting to think me a braggart.
At the homestead I take every last thing out of my pockets, and there is simply no paper money. I know exactly how much I had, including a certain amount of US currency, and it's just not there. So whatever. I guess I lost it, it's probably on the street somewhere. Hardly the first time for me. The next day I go to the bank, cause I can't very well be walking around with just lint in my pockets. And I withdraw some cash, and I put it in my left pocket, and I put my bank card back in my right pocket. And as I do, I feel something, and sure enough it's my missing cash. I want you to understand, I searched for this money for like fifteen minutes. And my pockets are just not that big. I would be certain somebody was fucking with me, except there just wasn't any opportunity for anyone to do so. Plus, it's always been this way with me. I lose all sorts of things, all the time, in ways that beggar belief. I know it drives people in my life batty, and I feel for them. But believe me. It's no picnic from my perspective either. Constantly losing things blows. I assure you, if you ever find yourself with occasion to be waylaid or derailed by my seemingly singular ability to make important things disappear: it's hurting me more than it's hurting you.
My personal favorite (read "least favorite") recent episode of this ilk was a couple months back in Austin, TX. We needed a couple money orders for various band bills, so Trevor and I walked up to this grocery store a click or two down the road. We got the money orders, I tore off the stubs and gave them to Trevor (he holds on to them lest they got awol in the mail or whatnot), and we walked back to the hotel. When we got there, the money orders were nowhere to be found. Bear in mind, we made no stops, not even for a fountain drink. They were just gone. It makes absolutely no sense, but it's a gift I have.
I'm also good at dropping things. I'd talk about that for a while, but I've been prattling on so long I'm sure you're starting to think me a braggart.
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