Many tragedies come from our physical and cognitive makeup. Our bodies are extraordinarily improbable arrangements of matter, with many ways for things to go wrong and only a few ways for things to go right. We are certain to die, and smart enough to know it. Our minds are adapted to a world that no longer exists, prone to misunderstandings correctable only by arduous education, and condemned to perplexity about the deepest questions we can entertain.
-Steven Pinker
I quit my job on March 25. I guess technically I quit a month before that, but my last day was March 25. I didn't know what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, but I knew I didn't want to work at GE any more. I knew I had always been curious what it would be like to play poker full time, so I decided until I figure out something better to do, I'd play a lot for a while and see how it went.
I had heard and read a lot about what its like to do this for a living. There are plenty of magazine articles, websites, TV shows, and internet message boards that discuss the pros and cons, highs and lows, feels, smells, and tastes of professional poker. A couple weeks ago, someone who has been there summed it all up for me: "Poker can be a brutal life, but a lucrative one. I wouldn't suggest it, but you'll find out for yourself."
I named my blog from the Buddha quote I have at the very bottom of this page. I can do all the research about poker life or what it would be like to work for another company or to go back to school, but its the "find out for yourself" part that resonates for me.
To be successful in a poker career, aside from poker talent, I always thought I would need to be capable of distancing myself from emotion and making rational decisions. I also figured I'd need to be comfortable with more of a "loner" lifestyle, and capable of good bankroll management. I believed I had these characteristics and abilities. I've always seen myself as unemotional and introverted, and with my finance background I didn't think I'd have trouble with the bankroll management.
Now, not even 3 weeks into this thing, how it going? I still believe I have the poker talent; I'm thriving on the solitude; Sleeping til 3pm is awesome; bankroll management hasn't been a problem yet. What I do question is my emotional capacity for coping with adversity.
Humans are social animals. We have always lived and worked in groups, and depended on our group for survival. Each person has to be trusted to contribute, and each person had to be able to trust the group will reward that contribution. Because this bond of trust is so important to the stability of a group, and thus to our individual survival, we have evolved certain emotions to reinforce it. Positive feelings like loyalty, honor, brotherly love, respect, dedication, patriotism, honesty and trust are a psychological glue that keep us together.
The flip side of that coin is that some of the strongest negative emotions we feel are reactions to breaking that social covenant. We feel guilt, shame or disgrace when we wrong someone who trusted us, and the wronged party feels betrayed and desires revenge. A highly developed negative sense is our "cheater-detection mechanism." 120,000 years ago it was "that bastard Og in cave 3 is eating more than his share of the antelope meat we caught" and today it is "that bastard Ogden in marketing barely did anything for this project, but he's going to take advantage of my hard work." We are all keenly alert for people taking advantage of us.
We all have experienced some form of these universal emotions, and understand the intense power they have over our actions. That power reflects the critical importance that working together played in the evolution of our species, and the danger of being taken advantage of.
What does that have to do with me and poker? Sometimes weird things can inadvertantly trigger those intense negative emotions. When someone catches the only card in the deck that could have beaten me, it feels like an injustice. It feels like the world owed me better, and someone has to pay for it. Obviously this is completely irrational. I know that if I'm in that situation 100 times, I'll win 98 of them and get paid off handsomely. But, my innate understanding of statistics isn't as well-tuned as my rational understanding, and my own mind betrays me as I feel a burn like I've been wronged.
Since March 26 I've played over 15,000 hands of poker. To put that in perspective, if you played in a casino and were dealt 30 hands an hour, you'd need about 3 months of playing 40 hours per week to play that many hands. But because internet poker is a lot faster, and I can play multiple tables simultaneously, that represents 71 hours of play and a little over 2 weeks. In this short time, I've seen the brutality to which Luke alluded. (So far the lucrative part eludes me.)
It usually doesn't bother me very much when I absorb one or two "bad beats." My style of play lends itself to them, because when I'm in there playing a hand, I usually started with something very strong, so usually my wilder opponents need to get lucky to beat me, which is of course going to happen some of the time. The theory is that it won't happen enough of the time to prevent me from winning overall, and long term it hasn't.
When it does start to bother me is when it happens a few times in a row, or on huge pots. In the last 2.5 weeks, I've suffered 3 months worth of bad beats, and the effect on my emotional state is cumulative. Feel the burn over and over, and that shit adds up.
In poker, when you let something bother you enough that your play suffers, it is called going on tilt. I've read world-class professionals say something to the effect of "I can't hope to eliminate tilt in my game, just to minimize it. I think of it as a business expense." They understand that it is part of our nature.
I've been suffering from short-term and long-term tilt lately. Short term tilt gets set off by a few tough beats in a row, and suddenly I'm playing hands differently that I normally would, usually to my disadvantage. Then those short-term downfalls and other factors have contributed to me playing poorly over a longer horizon. My recent woes, while likely at least partially just some bad luck, are probably also due to some questionable play on my part. Its a pretty viscious spiral. Brutal.
So while it wasn't realistic for me to expect to just dive right into this and be emotionally prepared for it, I do think that I can learn. I've made some key adjustments recently that I think are helping to put me back on track.
In regards to short-term tilt, I've started trying to implement a very simple remedy - count to 3. I'm trying to force myself to count to 3 before I make any action in big pots, or in hands that are likely to cause an emotional response. I noticed that often when I'm confronted by an unexpected raise from an opponent, that I too quickly go into a passive/defensive style of play. Sometimes this might be appropriate, but often it is not. Counting to 3 is helping already.
In regards to long-term, I've noticed I'm tending to play too passively overall lately. Related to this, I'm limping in early position with some weakish hands. In an effort to plug this leak as soon as possible, I've implemented a few rules:
1.) No limping in early position preflop (the first 3 people to act after the big blind). This means that if I'm in bad position, I either raise or fold. This is forcing me to dump hands like A8s, KJo, JTs, and 55 that I used to limp with.
2.) No open-limping. If I'm the first person into a pot, I am raising. Period.
3.) Assume your opponents are morons unless you have overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Act accordingly. This means that 99% of the actions you are faced with are pretty straight-forward. You can't bluff a calling station, and you can't check-raise someone who is afraid of their shadow. Bluff sparingly. Bet for value. Don't get fancy, jackass.
These rules aren't perfect, but they do more good than bad. They are part of Pinker's "arduous education" intended to help me overcome my natural tendancies. I think my game is starting to get back on track.
This is fun.
























