#665 – How I Won a Tournament with a Four-Leaf Clover

THE MOST IMPORTANT REASON TO SAVE AND READ HAND HISTORIES

[Ironically, while writing this blog on Wednesday, February 11, at the end of a very long - more than 15 hours - and mostly frustrating day of poker on Full Tilt, I won the $100 + $9 NLHE 6-handed-max $30,000 Guarantee. Throughout day, in which I played 7 tournaments, and went deep in 5 of the first 6 with just one small cash to show for it, the lessons of patience and perspective that I was trying to teach helped me a great deal. In addition, watching Mike Matusow play an FTOPS event during part of that day reinforced those lessons, and I'll try to write a blog very soon about what I saw.]

On January 22, I won the $69 + $6 NLHE $40,000 Guarantee. It started at 5 PM local time and finished just before midnight. Because of the large field that day (792 players), first place was worth over $13,000. When the tournament was over and I started my ritual of blaring KISS’s “Rock n’ Roll All Nite” (live version), I felt like I was sixty feet tall and made of solid gold.

I played very well, especially heads-up. But that doesn’t mean I played every hand correctly. I played one early hand terribly and the deck fortuitously bailed me out. In addition, there were several hands I played properly but needed to benefit from the random fall of the cards – and did. There were also a number of other occasions where I played correctly and ran into the wrong hand but, again, got the card I needed.

Several times since then, I started writing a blog about that tournament. Specifically, I wanted to make the point that you should remember when everything went right, so you can keep things in perspective when things go wrong. Players tend to focus on the bad things that happen in tournaments and that can lead to a skewed perspective. That, in turn, can cause you to play worse or, similarly, keep you from learning how to play better.

I saved my notes (and, of course, my hand history) but something else kept coming up. Last Sunday, however, I had the perfect occasion to revisit this idea. I played 12 hours, spending over $1,500 and cashed for exactly zero dollars. In six different tournaments, I outlasted at least 75% of the field but busted short of the money.

These were the beats that burned themselves in my brain:

* In one tournament, I moved all-in from the buttom with A-Q. It was a satellite into a $500 + $35 FTOPS event and we weren’t many spots from the money. But I was very short and couldn’t assume I’d be able to fold my way in. The small blind, who was also short but had about double my stack, called with A-3. It was a completely unnecessary call, though he hit to bust me.

* Another time that day, I was all-in preflop with K-K, was called by 9-9, and watched the guy make quads on the flop.

* Near the bubble of another tournament, I bet a quarter of my chips with K-K preflop and was called. We got it in after a flop of Q-Q-9. The caller had Q-T.

* I busted in the first five minutes of the biggest-field event in Full Tilt’s history with K-K against a guy who called with 8-5o. He caught a flop of 4-6-7.

* On the one occasion the whole day when I got all my chips in with the worst hand – 2-2 v. A-A – I hit a deuce on the turn only to see an ace on the river. Even when I got a break, I got broke.

FORGET ALL THAT!

This is why you should read hand histories from your wins. To keep those bad beats in perspective.
FOUR LEAF CLOVER

Here are four hands from my win on January 22 that, if I hadn’t been running so good, I wouldn’t have won $13,000 and maybe wouldn’t have won anything:

(1) I badly misplayed A-Ts fifteen minutes into the tournament.

I was on the button and raised. The big blind reraised and I called, figuring (a) A-Ts is decently high up on the hands I’d raise from the button, and (b) the big blind could figure I’m stealing and be trying to send a message without much regard to his cards. The flop came A-Q-J. The big blind bet out and I called.

By this time, about 1,000 of my 3,000 starting chips were in the pot. I suppose there’s some chance I could have gotten away if a blank came on the turn and he bet some realistic portion of the 2,000+ chip pot. But maybe not. I just wasn’t thinking smart at this point and can’t say I’d have wised up on the next bet. I don’t think I got the idea out of my head that he thought I was making a move and was making one himself.

What could I realistically beat here (noting that the big blind reraised me)? K-K, T-T or lower, A-9 or lower. But I was losing to a lot of pretty likely reraising hands: A-A, Q-Q, J-J, A-K, A-Q, A-J.

If there was ever a time to admit my first instinct was wrong, this should have been it. But I wasn’t acting that way.

Then the turn saved me. A king turned, which made me a straight. We got it all-in and my opponent, whose J-J became a set on the flop, busted.

I played bad and got away with it.

(2) Forty-five minutes into the tournament, I got into a hand because it was cheap, I was in position, and had great implied odds. Then I hit my hand but someone else hit a bigger one.

Someone min-raised, there was a call, and I was on the button with 9s-5s. I called to see the flop, which had me feeling pretty good: Q-9-5. Two-pair for me. I got it all-in with the raiser after that flop. The guy who put in the min-raise had Q-9 for higher two-pair. I had 5,300 before the hand and would have been down to 1,900 … if I hadn’t hit my two-outer on the turn. I got in most of my chips a 9-to-1 dog and survived.

(3) We were playing 8-handed with 16 or 17 players left, with blinds of 1,500-3,000/400 antes. I had 78,000, which was the second-shortest stack. I raised to 8,000. A player in late position (who had 137,000) moved all-in. I thought about it some but I considered this to be an aggressive player. He had made a couple moves and I sensed he was capable of expecting me to take some stabs preflop. (In fact, I had been been the most active player preflop, and folded several hands to reraises – though not when I was this short. With all the chips already in the pot, it’s a reasonable call to take a coin flip.)

So I called. He had 9-9. But I hit a six on the turn and doubled up.

(4) We were six-handed at the final table and I was dealt A-K in the small blind. Naturally, I was looking to get my chips in, especially because my stack wasn’t very deep.

The chip leader had 1 million (and was in the big blind). The next player had 436k. Another player and I had 274k. Fifth position had 233k and the shortest stack was 144k. Blinds were 5k-10k.

The player with 144k moved all-in. I called in the small blind, which was half my stack. I suppose I could have pushed in but it was a big enough raise (14x) and a big enough proportion of my chips (half) that there didn’t seem to be much utility in isolating the raiser.

Then the big blind – the biggest stack by far – moved all-in. I had made some big (for me, for online) laydowns this tournament and generally have been getting more comfortable laying down A-K and medium-big pairs. I had to put the big stack on at least a bigger hand than the short stack. The initial raiser could have been playing position (the button) or had a reasonable raising hand for the button but didn’t want to make a “standard” raise with less than 15 BBs in his stack. But having raised that much and getting a call from me, the big blind couldn’t have been doing this just to isolate.

There was also the consideration of the payouts. Sixth paid $2,500, fifth $3,500. If the big blind was going to bust the short stack, that would be worth a thousand dollars to me. Of course, I would have become the short stack, with just 13 BBs left.

I decided to call. The big blind had A-Q and the short-stack had 9-9, allowing for the possibility that I would break about even if I beat A-Q and lost to 9-9.

But I didn’t break even. The big blind and I both hit our kickers, busting the short stack, moving me up to about 700k, and tying me for the chip lead.

Is this the first time you’ve heard someone brag about giving bad beats and getting timely cards? That’s what makes it such a rare and valuable exercise. I’m keeping score in a way other players aren’t.
HOW A WORLD OF BAD BEATS CAN MAKE YOU A BAD PLAYER

Perception is tricky, even if you know it’s tricky. If you polled a lot of online players, I think hardly any of them would tell you that their good breaks OUTWEIGH the bad. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that their results overstate their actual ability. Some players will probably say that fate has evened out.

And the rest, the vast majority? If the hundreds of players – I don’t actually count so the number could easily be in the thousands – I talk with online, either at the table, on the rail, or by e-mail are representative, most online tournament players will tell you their results understate their level of ability.

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard, “The worst hand always wins here.” Or, “I always get all-in with the best hand and someone sucks out.” Or, “It’s unbelievable the number of times my overpairs are cracked.” Or, “I have a tremendous record of building chips and making it through the early part of tournaments but it always seems I go card-dead or finally get a hand and bust late to a worse hand.”

As aware as I am of these tendencies, I am also subject to them. Between last August 24 and December 28, I was underwater about $30,000. It’s possible I could look back at those four months of results and hand histories, and demonstrate that I played well and was disproportionately victimized by randomness. But maybe not. Or perhaps not to the degree it felt like. (And even if I could demonstrate it, to what end?)

I know what it feels like to play with an attitude that something bad is going to happen sooner or later, no matter how well you play.

That attitude makes you a worse player and undoubtedly hurt my game during that period. Here are some of the ways that a pessimistic attitude can hurt your game:

(1) You can’t adjust or learn. Quick example: Early in a tournament, a player almost always has the right implied odds to call a raise with a small pair. If you slowplay your big pairs – for instance, by not reraising preflop if you get the chance – you are setting yourself up to lose all your chips to a smaller pair. (At the same time, it’s extremely UNLIKELY that you will win more than an initial bet from a small pair.)

Here are the proper responses to that situation: bet more to give small pairs incorrect odds to hit, figure out how to avoid going broke with a big pair early, or make sure YOU take advantage of those implied odds when you have the small pair. You can’t perceive your error or adjust if you are grousing about “lousy players raising with pocket threes and getting lucky against my aces.”

(2) You can’t make certain smart, marginal plays. How, for example, can you make a marginal fold or lay-down if your attitude is, “They’re gonna get me sooner or later no matter how I play”? (Ironically, that attitude SHOULD cause you to fold MORE in marginal situations, but it usually doesn’t work that way. The fatalistic player sticks with the hand despite “knowing” it will be a loser.)

(3) You may start making BAD changes in your game. If other players – especially if there are several at your table – are playing incorrectly, the impulse may be to do what they are doing. (E.g., limping too often, calling too much, chasing too much) Usually, the proper response is to play your regular game or to do the OPPOSITE of what they are doing. If you think you’re cursed, however, or that “bad play always seems to be rewarded,” you may follow your incorrect impulse.

(4) You can’t play your best in a bad frame of mind. Many great poker victories have been attained after rebounding from bad beats and bad situations. Just in my experience on Full Tilt, I won a tournament when 30% of the field was still left and I had exactly one big blind. In another tournament, I was down to LESS THAN ONE ANTE. The tournament paid 500 places and there were 800 left. I made it to the last 8 tables. I needed some good breaks in those instances, but not even that many. Even with a good break, however, you can’t engineer a comeback if you’re thinking “the hell with it” or “I’m doomed.”

You have to avoid falling in those traps. Save the records of your successes and review them, especially when you are feeling like you can’t catch a break. If you can recognize that you’re capable of GIVING bad beats as well as getting them, and you’ve MADE big money through serendipity, you can put those bad breaks in their proper perspective.

I’ve said this many times: Poker mastery comes from crossing a series of “bridges” with each bridge representing an increasingly-difficult skill set. The last bridge is to know yourself. That’s only possible if you can exorcise the belief that your skills are greater than they actually are, that you are incapable of learning from a loss, and that cruel fate is playing a disproportionate role in your results.

• No Related Post