Mike Caro's Threshold of Misery

It's no secret: for the past six months I have played some of the most awful poker known to man. The support from my poker playing friends has been everything from "Hang in there" to "Take a hiatus". I'm more leaning towards the latter, but I've always been an optimist. Sooner or later the numbers will catch up, I'll start playing better and I'll have a WSOP bracelet.

Just making sure you were paying attention.

But, after one particular session a couple of weeks ago where I played horrendous, I went back to the drawing board for a minute and picked up Doyle Brunson's Super System 2, a title that Jim McManus, author of Positively Fifth Street, says makes no sense at all. Well, the title I don't neccesarily get, but when players drop as many jewels as they do in that book, it could be Doyle Brunson: Limping Made Gangsta for all I care. For anybody reading this blog, you're not really any kind of poker player until you've read the book.

I mention Super System because as I was glancing back over some chapters on trying to piece back together my fundamentals, I stumbled over Mike Caro's chapter. Now, I know he has his own book and everything with a lot of the same information, but there was one section in particular that got my attention, and it sums up a lot of not only what's been going on at the poker table, but my life as well.

I shall give you the most important snippet from his "Threshold of Misery" section:

"Few concepts have resonated with students more than Caro's Threshold of Misery. I continually receive letters, e-mails, and face to face thanks from both poker players and people in the "real world", telling me how much this simple truth has meant to them.

"Here's how it goes: suppose you're a small to medium limit player, and you can envision yourself comfortably losing a maximum of $1,500 today. I'm not suggesting that you'll be happy about losing that much, just that you can comfortably handle it and that anything more will begin to feel uncomfortable.

"Okay, now you find yourself down $500, then $1,100, then--before it registers, you've zoomed past $1,500 and are losing $1,800. You've entered dangerous territory. And it gets worse. And worse. Hours later, you find yourself losing $4,530. Now, your mind is numb. I believe that most people at this point can't mentally comprehend added losses. It all feels the same. You've crossed into Caro's Threshold of Misery, which is the point where mental and emotional pain is maximized and anything further won't register.

"You must be aware when you cross that threshold, because beyond it decisions don't seem to matter. This is true in real life, too. When romances unravel or businesses fail, you might cross the Threshold of Misery and stop caring about making critical decisions. That's because the pain is already maximized and anything else that goes wrong can't add to the agony... at these times, in poker and in life, the secret is to keep performing like you care."

And, I can say that on the poker table and in some other portions of my life, this theory rings so true. I can almost feel myself get that way in live cash games, when I get a big hand cracked and the next hand raise with 5-4 off because deep down I know that if I lose that pot it's not going to make me feel any worse.

On a grander scale of poker, from game to game I mean, it's like losing $40 isn't going to be that awful. Why? Because I've dropped a couple thousand this year, and what's another $40? That's the wrong way to approach poker.

That's the wrong way to approach life.

Even though shit really isn't panning out the way I thought it would, with poker, school--shit, my relationships, I have to get out of this mindset that, "Oh, who cares what I do? Everything's fucked up anyway."

Like Caro says, no matter what the results are, I have to keep performing as though I care, as though there is something at stake. That's the only way I'm going to bust out of this slump. No small ball gimics. No drastic changes in strategy (for the most part). I just have to perform the absolute best I can.

In all facets of life.

I used to give a fuck, now I can give a fuck less?
Fuck that, I done been under enough stress.