In my younger days, I was a good pool player – depending on your standard, very good. I played in leagues and tournaments, and made a fair bit of money from time to time. I wasn’t quite the stick as some people I knew, but a few levels above the casual player. I avoided playing at friends’ houses or plugging quarters in a coin-op at a bar, when it would be socially awkward to run the table.That time in my life was fifteen years and fifty pounds ago. I’ve gone from glasses to contacts to Lasik. I don’t read Billiards Digest or watch it on TV very often. My Meucci sits in the hall closet, untouched since before my first child was born.
Last month, I was on a business trip in Boston, and the hotel had a pool table just off the bar. After a few cocktails, some of my colleagues suggested playing one night. Why not? We divide into partners, and soon enough, it’s my turn. I have no expectation of reliving former glories, but surely I can give them something to talk about.
Line up pretty easy shot. Bend over, dominant eye in line with the cue tip and bridge hand. Shoulder joint flows freely, relaxed. Find aim point, three practice strokes, exhale, hold it. Stroke.
I missed by a foot. I missed the next shot almost as badly. It took three games that night before I made three balls in a row, and I needed two balls in the mouth of the pocket to achieve this feat.
I still knew what to do throughout the game. I could look at each table and realize where the ball should move to make position on each successive shot. I saw straight-in combinations and could tell if there was space for a ball or not. But the gap between how to play and actually playing was enormous, and humbling.
Over the last six weeks, I haven’t played a lot of poker, either. When I do get a session in, it’s often just a block or two of 4-tabling 27-man SNGs, depending on how quickly they’re filling up on PokerStars. Most grinders put in more volume in a few days than I do in a month. In total, I will play less than 500 multi-table SNGs and tournaments in the year 2010.
As I analyze my game and my current downswing, I’m finding the difference between my knowledge and execution is almost as large at the poker table as it was at the pool table in Boston. I can break down ICM and pot-odds calculations easily. I can talk to people all day about making reads and assigning ranges. Call me “Lord of Hand Advice” if you wish…I’ve earned it.
When it comes time to play, however, something doesn’t translate well between my brain and my mouse hand. In situations requiring as much instinct as strategic thinking – push/fold spots at the end of tournaments – I find myself leaking chips. The process should be as simple as a cue stroke. Hands fold around to me. I know what my shoving range should be based on table position and stack size. Make decision in the short period of allotted time. Click the button.
But superfluous history and bad beats crowd my memory, distracting me from what I know I should be doing. I remember the guy from a previous game calling my shove with J-7, miraculously dominating my 8-7. I avoid the big stack playing every hand and running hot with any two cards, because I just know he’ll lay a bad beat on me. When thinking about ICM, I forget to account for the super-short stack who will blind out in a hand, or just assume he’s going to double up a couple times and fuck me over.
Poker is a game of logic. My logical muscle memory sucks.
Unfortunately, I don’t have time in my life to play poker several hours a day and get back in the groove, any more than I can put a 9-foot Brunswick Gold Crown in my basement and practice a couple hours a day. Fixing my leaks will take a more concerted, focused effort.
Fortunately, I have the option to escape my leaks…finding new ones, perhaps, but at least breaking a bad routine. When my NLHE tournament game is going poorly, I enjoy playing mixed cash games to break things up, find opportunities to play into other strengths and stay away from my hazard spots. I’ve had a couple good sessions recently playing PLO8 and Razz. The more distance I can put between my past failures and the present, the better off I’ll be.
And yet, the problems I have in a game which should be a steady profit center must be addressed.
In addition to reviewing situations and making sure I have my end-game math down cold…I also have to let go of the past. I took some beats last session. So what? Someone called me too loose and got away with it. So what? I’m the only guy at the table who can’t suck out after getting it as an underdog. So what?
Today is a new day. The math never changes. And neither should my strategic approach to poker.
