Level footing
One of the reasons I know I'll never be a pro (among the thousands), is an oft-quoted statement about poker players having to have no regard for money. As mature as I believe I have gotten at the table, I don't think I'll ever be one to say a title is far more important to me than the cash prize.
That said, two of my last three outings have resulted in some pretty harsh exits. Holding A-K suited against a terrible, sizeable all-in call from J-10 off, we both flopped a pair ... my A, his J. The river was a J, and I was gone. The worst thing I did at this table was tell the guy I'd like to play him again, only after he celebrated like he had made some incredible move.
Last night, it was pocket Ks, short stacked (because of my own stupidity), versus 8-7 off. A 7 fell on the flop, and the third on the river. While inside I was steaming, outside I was a gentleman. (I was mad that my Ks were cracked, not at the guy ... though I was a little miffed he called, and did not raise, on the button with some rather stiff blinds. I was in the small.)
The combination of those beats played a big part in my internal fury. I couldn't believe my bad luck.
But, I have learned to accept it outwardly. I don't play a lot, maybe six or seven times a month, and I know bad luck can be overcome with steady play. I reminded myself that third game in the span was a tournament win.
I also reminded myself of the times I've watched pros like Josh Arieh, Phil Hellmuth and that guy at the 2006 U.S. Poker Championship who got his aces cracked cry and moan and act really childish. I can't imagine they are proud of that. I know it's not the way I want to be remembered.
Besides, I've got a bigger tournament to worry about this weekend. No sense steaming for too long.
Like I've always told my kids in baseball, there's always another pitch, always another at bat, always another game.
That said, two of my last three outings have resulted in some pretty harsh exits. Holding A-K suited against a terrible, sizeable all-in call from J-10 off, we both flopped a pair ... my A, his J. The river was a J, and I was gone. The worst thing I did at this table was tell the guy I'd like to play him again, only after he celebrated like he had made some incredible move.
Last night, it was pocket Ks, short stacked (because of my own stupidity), versus 8-7 off. A 7 fell on the flop, and the third on the river. While inside I was steaming, outside I was a gentleman. (I was mad that my Ks were cracked, not at the guy ... though I was a little miffed he called, and did not raise, on the button with some rather stiff blinds. I was in the small.)
The combination of those beats played a big part in my internal fury. I couldn't believe my bad luck.
But, I have learned to accept it outwardly. I don't play a lot, maybe six or seven times a month, and I know bad luck can be overcome with steady play. I reminded myself that third game in the span was a tournament win.
I also reminded myself of the times I've watched pros like Josh Arieh, Phil Hellmuth and that guy at the 2006 U.S. Poker Championship who got his aces cracked cry and moan and act really childish. I can't imagine they are proud of that. I know it's not the way I want to be remembered.
Besides, I've got a bigger tournament to worry about this weekend. No sense steaming for too long.
Like I've always told my kids in baseball, there's always another pitch, always another at bat, always another game.
posted by deuceleeDOTcom at 8:14 AM
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