Sunday, September 23, 2007

4-2!?

Sometimes I just don't know.

Like, I truly believe poker is a game of skill, a test of wits, psychological warfare carried out on the felt (or virtual felt). It's a game where you not only calculate odds, but tendencies. When played correctly, it transcends art.

But, then again, there are days--like today--where I feel like all of that can get thrown out the window and ladyluck gives some poor sap a blowjob under the table.

Let me set the table for this one: I've got like $45 in a $.25-$.50 game on Ultimatebet. At one point I had like 80 something, but little mistakes here and there cost me, and, well, I was back down to earth (not that 80 is rushing or anything, but...). I've got A-7 off in the small blind. Folded to the button, an erratic player, who called. I call. Big blind, who had just gotten to the table but hadn't made much noise sitting with around $35, checked.

Flop comes 4-2-7, two diamonds. I'm feelin' the check-raise vibe because I don't want to see a turn with this hand, so I complete part I of the master plan. Big blind thinks for a minute and bets $1.25 into a $1.50 pot. Button calls (he literally can have anything at this point). Back to me, and I raise to $3.50. BB thinks for a minute and calls. At that point I put him on two pair or a decent 7, maybe even A-7. Button folds.

Turn is a ten of hearts, making the board double-suited. I bet $8 into about a $10 pot. He calls.
Now I'm DEFINTELY putting him on two pair.

The river is a queen of hearts, possible flush showing. In full blown Mike Matusow mode, I put him all-in. He thinks real hard, and of course he calls with 4-2 suited. Two piece.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Justin, why the hell are you blogging about this hand? You dug your own grave by being over-aggressive like you usually get after an hour or so. You knew he had a big hand, and that it would take much better story-telling to get him to lay that down. I've lost all respect for you as a player, if I ever had any."

Believe it or not, that's not the hand. After he made that not too overly difficult call against me, I gave him credit as a solid player. Oh boy.

Two hands later I'm dealt JJ Redick. With $13 left, I have enough to not overly panic and push with 26 BBs left, so I raise to $2 with the artist formerly known as the erratic bubble boy behind me. Well, artist formerly known as BB called, as did the actual BB (who at one point had like $212 but had fallen back to reality) and dude in front of me. Great, they think I'm tilting.

Flop comes 10-8-4, two clubs I think. Everybody checks to me.

"Fuck it," I said. "No one has shown any real strength, but for some reason I feel like if I push now I'll get at least one caller."

Push by me. I get two callers: my nemesis' from the previous discussion. I put both of them on tens, until they both check the turn, a 5 of diamonds. I'm thinking to myself, "No ten, no eight, no four."

The river is a four. Okay, not the best card in the world, but, come on... how can you still be in this pot with a...

Dude right behind me bet $10 into what was now a $40 pot. Are you serious?

I knew it before the cards were turned over, that my man had a 4. Maybe A-4 suited.

No. He had 4-2 suited.

...

Okay, so let's break this hand down from his perspective. Believe it or not, I don't have a huge problem with him calling before the flop. It's not the best play in the world, but let's assume that he knew the limper would also call. 4-2 is pretty weak, but he is getting almost 3-1, plus it's suited. I've made such calls, and sometimes I do flop big hands, and playing those connectors can be pretty deceptive if the flop is good. Not in love with the call, but hey, these Internet kids are crazy, so I'll give the call a B- (I'll give him the benefit of the doubt).

On the flop, I like the check. Some people bet out to see where they're at, but checking is right. A+.

But, here is where it goes all wrong. When I go all-in, I may be tilting. I mean, I could have had A-K, A-Q, or A-J, but here's the thing... with two other people behind you, how can you try to make a hero call like that? Oh, and in terms of relative hand strength, you hit the board, but you have the absolute worst kicker in the world. I mean, let's say I'm just making a continuation bet. I raised for a reason; pocket fives would have him crushed. F---(take that as either "F" triple minus or something else).

Ugh. I'm gonna be dreaming about 4-2 all night, because it literally cost me close to a buy-in tonight.

Poker is the most excruciating game in the world. Why do I put myself through so much abuse?

Then again... when I hit quads with 4-2 next time, it'll be the new 8-5.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Harrington On Hold 'Em

Cash games haven't been too good to me lately. I've actually gone through about a two month period of playing like absolute dog shit in cash games. I haven't been properly executing small ball, in essence doing what Daniel Negreanu says most players end up doing when adopting small ball--over-extending my hand range.

However, I don't think it's any coincidence that I've been playing better in tournaments. Know why? It's because I limit my hand range to much stricter requirements, a strategy I should start implementing more in my cash games. I'm playing on Ultimatebet.com right now, and I've been doing nothing but playing large 300 + tourneys. Finished seventh in one (where I really should have won as the chip leader for almost half the tournament but...) and I've cashed in two others. 42% success rate in big tournaments isn't bad at all.

Still, in those tournaments, everytime I got knocked out it wasn't because I got unlucky. I made some legitimate bone-headed ass plays to kick me to the rail. For example, 29 BB left near the bubble, and I come over the top of two raisers with pocket tens (guy who called had JJ Redick). Or, how about this one: 50 times the BB after grinding to get that many chips, only to come over the top of a guy who had me covered with only A-Q off. Big mistake on my part, taking a coin flip knowing that he was an aggressive player who hadn't shown that he was capable of laying down a hand (he had 6-6).

Mistakes aside, I think working out of Dan Harrington's Harrington on Hold 'Em: Volume III has helped my tournament game a lot. It gives you good insight for playing after the flop and playing the bubble, two things I have improved but still need work on.

I bring up the Harrington book because it has a scoring system to help evaluate your play. I felt like I made a ton of mistakes in the book, but out of 591 possible points, I scored 457, much better than I thought I would have. In the description in the back of the book, Harrington interprets the score as, "A very good player who should show solid profit in big tournaments."

So, theoretically I should be dominating the field. I should have had a six figure cash by now, a Porsche to compensate for inadequate manhood, and a butler who tells me how good I am. But, the truth is I'm not.

The financial results say that I'm just another fish (literally) in the sea. I eat other fish sometimes, but for the most part I'm the main course. Per the results, I'm certainly no shark.

But, what I learned from this book was that my lack of success doesn't have to do with lack of knowledge. I'm not going to say I know poker inside and out, because I don't, but I know enough to do much better than I have been. No, my lack of success comes with my over-reliance on my heart instead of my head in the heat of the moment.

When I'm talking poker, I'm quick to say, "Oh yeah, what is he doing pushing with A-Q off?"

"Pocket tens in the face of two raisers? Save your chips."

"You flopped a small flush, but what did you think when he raised you? I would have laid it down."

Throughout my career, in the face of anxiety, I have been a losing player. I can bet a set on the flop for value and check the turn, check-raise on river with nothing successfully, or steal the blinds under the gun with 5-2 off (true story), but I can't fold aces at any point in the hand, drop the second nut flush, or fold a boat.

It's mental. It's all mental. And, until I figure out how to get out of my own way, 457 score or not, I will be a losing player.