Getting Better. Even if it means reading a book.
Posts tagged Home Game
Winning Poker Formula:Play Against the Weak. Losing Poker Formula:Play Against the Strong
Feb 5th
I’ll just come out and say it: I play poker to win money.
Just like any other poker player, I will take money from my friends, my enemies, my neighbor, the fathers of my son’s pre-school friends and even my wife. Hell, if my grandmother would sit down with me I would try my darnedest to take her money as well.
In order to win more money at poker, I have done what any true poker player does: study.
I study a lot.
I buy the books: Sit ‘n Go Strategy, Harrington on Hold ‘em, Online Ace, etc. I underline important parts, take notes and implement the techniques.
I take internet courses: Deepstacks University, the online interactive course endorsed by Mike “The Mouth” Matusow. (great site by the way!)
I have discussions with fellow poker players about strategy, odds, etc.
You’d think with all this diligent work my results would be better. Online I am a break even player. Home games:winner. Casino games: loser. To be honest, I am an overall loser in poker. Not huge numbers, but enough to irk me. Make me want to crack the nut.
After all this studying, practicing and playing, I have come to realize there is only one REAL winning formula for poker: Play against players that are worse than you are. Sounds simple, but it’s true. This is a predatory sport and the strong feast on the weak.
You want to beat the game, look for the table full of losers.
Top 10 Traits of a Losing Poker Player:
10. He has a short stack. A good player knows that to win, his stack has to be replenished. Otherwise he’s not playing poker. It’s called playing bingo.
9. A big talker, giving lessons = BIG LOSER.
8. Looks like he’s been up all night. Probably trying to get even. Winners go home when they are losing and cut their losses.
7. Complains about back beats.
6. Goes to the ATM. Definitely means he is going beyond his intended budget and probably not using good bankroll management.
5. Plays almost every hand: loser
4. Tries to verbally intimidate the other players. LOSER!
3. Talks about how much he won last night. LOOOOOOO-SER!
2. Throws his cards at the dealer.
1. Makes quick over-sized bets.
I am probably not telling you anything new. But how many of us truly abide by these rules. It ain’t rocket science, but it works. In fact, it works way better than reading, studying or talking about poker. To paraphrase Texas Dolly: Poker is a game of people played with cards.
I play poker to win money from the weak.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
The Host Gift
Jan 18th
I finally get an invite to the home game I’ve been subtlety lobbying to get into.
This is a group of the cool dad’s from my son’s pre-school. I casually let them know I play poker, and then patiently wait to be invited into the inner circle. It’s like dodgeball in elementary school. I desperately want to be included in the fun, but inevitably feel like the last one chosen.
Now that I have the invite, my next concern is what to bring for the host gift. This is after all, a friendly game. After too much deliberation, I settle on a bottle of wine. Not the good stuff of course, I want to be gracious, not stupid. Does this make me a bad person? Probably, but I’m just trying give the right gift for the right situation. It’s like trying to read an opponent. In this situation I think the B minus wine is enough to drag in the pot.
I arrive at the game, offer my wine to the host and take my seat with other guys. Tonight is going to be good. I am definitely going to fit in here. Until I don’t.
The guys start commenting on the wine they are drinking. Tannin this, velvet that. Uh oh. My okay wine is now a ticking time bomb ready to expose me as Mr. Cheap. Now I know I am fucked.
I silently accept defeat. I was outplayed at the wine game. No biggie. Just like when I take a licking at the poker table, I do some evaluation, make some adjustments and try not to repeat the same mistakes.
Thankfully, these guys aren’t nearly as judgmental as I am. A couple quips about my wine being sub-par, I’m off the hook. And the best news is that while these guys know wine, they don’t know shit about poker. But tonight, I don’t really care. I’m happy to just make new friends. It’s just gravy that these new friends will call a big raise with J8 in early position.
Even though the game is juicy, I’m just playing to make friends and drink (someone else’s) good wine.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
Latin Ballroom or Pass the Trash
Jan 17th
I’ve been married for 10 years, have 2 kids and almost no time to myself. If you count my internet porn babes as company, then I do in fact have no time to myself. When I get a call to join a neighbor’s home game on a random Wednesday night, I think to myself, “What would I rather do? Watch the finale of So You Think You Can Dance with my wife, or hang out with the guys smoking pot, telling lies and acting like a 15 year old.” Hmmmmmmmmm
I arrive at the game a bit giddy. This night is going to be fun. Buy in is $80 and it’s dealer’s choice. Everyone hates NLH at home games. It’s too slow, too restrictive…requires too much talent! I know this going in. We are going to play games that are just a hair above roulette in skill level. Shit, I was going to be watching Tiffany and Raj do the Latin Ballroom, even if I lose $80 at stupid games of chance, I’m a winner. I’ll gladly play 3 hours of “Pass The Trash” if I can escape the suffering of a round of comments from the faggy dancing judges about how much Raj extended his arms during the pirouettes. Not that I have a problem with gay or dancing. But really? Is this even a contest?
Tonight I am catching bad cards. Couple that with missing some of the “subtleties” of Pass the Trash and I am thru my first buy in. It’s only 8:30. Raj is still doing pirouettes. RE-BUY!
At 9:07, my second buy-in is gone. Raj or chips? Raj or chips? Raj or chips? It’s a tough one, but at this point I need to acknowledge the grace and beauty of Raj’s dancing. He actually does have a place in my life. When all the money is gone and there is absolutely nothing left to do, Raj is the answer.
I come home. My wife remarks that I am home early. Bad night. I take my place on the couch and manage to show some enthusiasm when I ask, “Hey did I miss Raj and Tiffany?” “Nope“‘ she says, “just in time.” I force a smile and say, “Great! Can’t wait to see them really nail this Latin Ballroom.”
Sometimes I play poker to postpone the inevitable.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
A Few Ounces Lighter
Jan 13th
I was feeling a few ounces lighter. I certainly wasn’t losing weight as a result of my eating during the holidays. Then I figured it out. I’d lost my balls. It happened during a No Limit Hold Em ring game when I couldn’t make myself call an all in bet. I was almost positive I was in the lead, but I was having a good night and my stack was healthy. If I called and lost, it would decimate me. I played it safe, or more like a wuss, and folded only to be shown a hand weaker than mine. My opponent smiled as he raked in a $500 pot.
What happened to me? I used to be as aggressive as they came. I used to be THAT guy. I know you have to be aggressive. That’s how I play. Or at least I thought I did. Sure, most of my early, highly aggressive play was in online SNGs, but certainly, that must translate.
All I really knew was that I needed my balls back.
When you’re looking for something, it’s always best to retrace your steps. Go to the last place you saw it and look there. So that’s what I did. I went online to the Full Tilt Super Turbo SNGs. Cheap ones. $14 +$1.
I chose the Super Turbos because they are all about aggression. Win fast or lose fast. All in or nothing. I played a bunch.
Promptly turned $100 into $0. Felt good, too. For the first time in a month, I was playing with confidence again. It actually felt better to lose with confidence rather than book a few puss-played wins. I wasn’t the timid little mouse that got bullied in the NLH ring game. At least now I had a little fight in me.
So in the end, it cost me $100 to get my balls back. A bargain at twice the price. Way cheaper than the $500 neuticles I got for my dog.
I guess sometimes I play poker to re-learn lessons.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
Am I here to make friends, or money?
Jan 11th
I was eager to accept when I received an invite to my neighbor’s home game. The last few months have been all about changing diapers and feeding formula to my 6 month old at all hours of the night, I need a night out. The buy-in is $60 and I figure a night of male bonding and fart jokes is worth at least that. Sometimes just getting out of the house is a win.
I think to myself, let’s play loose. Be social. Go with the flow. Get to know the guys. Make it more about the hang, than playing poker. First hand we play, I can’t help myself. The competitive spirit in me gets unconsciously ignited and I play aggressive deceitful, dare I say “good” poker. Suddenly I get drunk with the knowledge that I am clearly the best poker player at this table. I prey on these poor suckers who don’t know my style by making a stone cold bluff and win. Oops, just took $30 off my neighbor. Next hand, I catch a real hand and win, another $20 from him. Fuck, I need to slow down, or at least stop taking money from my neighbor. Next few hands I show some discipline: folding donkey hands so I don’t suck out on someone and make them mad.
I manage to slow down and focus on talking to the guys. Then it all changes. Billy, the stoner to my left who is a dead ringer white version of Will.i.am, breaks out a perfectly rolled spleef from the Farmacy (god bless Los Angeles). I jump at the chance to smoke some weed ( I did happen to notice several bags of gummi bears on the counter. This is going to be a good night.) I take a few puffs and just like that, stoned.
The next hand is PLO 8 or better. Now let me just say that I completely suck at this game. I figure this is a good time for a little give back to secure next week’s invite. Fast forward to me hitting a straight flush on the river. A steel wheel none the less. The stone cold nuts if there ever were any. There is a pause. One of the guys says to me, Why so quiet? You got the straight flush? I am so stoned and stunned all I can say is, “Yes, yes I do.” Then I bet, get four callers and take it down. Another $40 from my neighbor, along with about $100 in the pot. What a time to be getting cards. I just want to fit in, hang with the guys, get invited back. Now I am the jackass who smokes the free weed, has a horseshoe up his ass and takes money from the host.
Most of the time, I play poker to win money, get an adrenaline rush, act a little bit irresponsible, but this time I really just wanted to get out of the house, meet some new guys and maybe even expand my social circle. I had a different reason for playing poker tonight, but the cards wouldn’t cooperate. Sometimes you have the weapons when you are trying to make friends. Other times you get caught naked when you’re among the wolves. Poker is a cruel game that way. An unpredictable, ruthless rollercoaster. And that’s why I love it.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
It’s Christmastime All Year Long
Jan 11th
A couple times a month, I make it to the Bicycle, Commerce or Hollywood Park casino. Okay, it’s once a week. Sometimes twice. But I wish it were more. On those days, there is a little extra skip in my step. I smile a bit wider. Of course, the day couldn’t go any slower. When 7:30pm finally arrives, I eagerly hop in the car and head down to the Bike. I can’t get there fast enough. But if I didn’t cut off that dude on the 710 I would’ve have missed the light and never gotten that parking space or those glorious cowboys on my first hand. You know, wings on a mosquito shit?
Finally I get to the tables, sit down and away we go. First hand. Cowboys get busted and cost a rack. Second hand, fold. Third hand, I fold. I continue to fold for the next 2 hours Must have spent my karma elsewhere. Maybe I shouldn’t have cut that guy off.
This is utterly ridiculous. I think I should loosen up. But, I did that last week and promised myself I would exercise discipline tonight. Instead of donking off $200 on unplayable hands out of boredom, I fold. After 3 hours, I start wondering who I pissed off. Just last week it seemed like the poker gods were having an orgy while I was playing. Now someone ain’t getting laid up there, but they’re making damn sure I get royally fucked down here.
Usually I fend off the boredom by gorging myself on a huge bowl of ice cream, or asking the pimp next to me how his girls are performing. But tonight they’re out of ice cream and the pimp just got a call and left abruptly. It was probably Sheila. He did mention she was with a new customer tonight. Hope she’s okay.
Now it’s 1am. I have dribbled away $78. This night has not turned out as planned. I had no action at the table. The players weren’t particularly interesting. The food wasn’t satisfying. Why did I play tonight? Why do I ever play this boring game? I sit with this for a moment and then it hits me.
Every time those cards are dealt to me, I feel like a kid on Christmas about to open an incredible present. That feeling of anticipation and potential joy is amazing for me. Even though I didn’t get to play a hand tonight, I did open about 200 Christmas presents. All of them were essentially ugly clothes from grandma, but I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
Win big tonight, Honey!
Jan 11th
Those words are the kiss of death to me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them and actually won.
The part that sucks the most is my wife is so earnest when she says them. She’s actually rooting for me. She wants me to win. Yet, that’s all it takes for me to know I’m fucked before I even start. I should just take my money and go to a strip club.
“Uh, Honey, you know those those nice, encouraging words you gave me before I went out? Well, they fucked up my head. As soon as I heard them, I knew I would lose at poker so I went to Crazy Girls and spent $300 to have this Latina spinner dry hump my leg.”
That’s at least logical. It doesn’t say much for me as a husband, but it makes sense. However, I don’t do that. I go and play. When I walk in the the casino, the valet might as well yell “Dead man walkin’.” Now it’s just a matter of putting in the time and money to make this self-fulfilling prophecy come true.
I tell myself I’m not even superstitious. But obviously I am. Okay, I admit, I don’t like playing poker on Friday the 13th either. What’s that about? I’m a serious poker player. I don’t believe in luck. I roll my eyes when I even hear someone complain about it. But if I hear the three words “Win big tonight!” I mentally throw in the towel. Same thing when I see that dealer who killed me when I had quads.
Okay, so I’m superstitious. I can accept that. The thing that makes me crazy is that I don’t adjust my game. If I have someone really loose on my right I adjust. Someone really tight on my left, I change my attack. So from now on I’m going to adjust my game when I hear those words “Win big Honey!”. I’m not playing.
I’m probably not going to the strip club either, but I always wondered what a $300 ice cream sundae looks like.
I guess sometimes I play poker to know sometimes I shouldn’t.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
Fucking Stanley
Jan 11th
“C’mon Stanley, show your hand! You bet, I called, you show.” There’s a big sigh. A shrug. Another sigh. A very long pause. “C’mon is my straight good?” I ask impatiently. Stanley gives yet another sigh and turns over the nuts.
He’s slow rolling again.
“Oh, that’s slowrolling?” He asks coyly. “I’m sorry, Dude.” Yeah, right. He knows he has my number. He’s just one of those guys that’s gets under my skin.
Why do I choose to spend my Monday nights with this guy? The rest of the week I’m surrounded, mostly, by people that want my life to be better. Not this guy. He wants me guessing whether I’m coming or going. He wants me on the verge of getting up and leaving the table. Nothing would make him happier than to hear “Fuck you , Stanley” and wait for the door to slam.
You know what?
I love it. I even love him. He’s a living, breathing, slow rolling workout for my patience and anger management. You know what else? I’m getting in better shape. What used to send me into a murderous rage now only barely irks me. I know what’s coming and I roll with it. I wish I could say I have a zen-like amusement about it all, but I don’t.
So here we are again. Stanley bet. I called. I wait. He’s really Hollywooding. “I’m vulnerable” He says. “Just show it.” I say. Reluctantly, he turns over a full house. “I have the small one.” He says with a smirk. “That’s good…” I say. Then I wait. And proceed “…because I have the big one. Oh, is that slowrolling? My bad, dude.”
I play poker to say “Push those chips a little closer to me, bitch.” Okay, so I still hold a little resentment.
Why do you play? Let me know at stories@whydoiplaypoker.net
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