Last June, I wrote about dipping my toe into the world of online poker.
Ten months later, I'm still loving it and ready for a healthy dose of self-assessment.
I'm discovering my niche as a player, I think. I like multi-table tournaments, love Sit-N-Go tournaments, and although I'm trying to force myself to get into regular, non-tournament cash games, they are a chore to me.
There's a lot of reasons why I think this is the case. Firstly, there's my competitiveness. There's a savory essence in finishing first in something, slaying everyone before you. Cash games don't work that way. People come, people go, people re-buy in, they just sort of exist on a never-ending plane.
Secondly, tournaments seem to favor my style of play more, which is fairly loose-aggressive. I don't chase much, but I like to make other players define their hands. A good player won't call off a third of his stack without a pretty good hand, even if he knows your bluffing. On the other hand, that's a cookie jar you can't stick your hand in too often, or else people start to catch on and go over the top of you ... and then I'm in the one in the situation I tried to put them in: I'm quite sure they are bluffing, but can't afford to call them on it without a very strong hand myself.
So, I try to be selective and change gears as much as possible, and try to get a read on everyone else's style of play. Reading other players (online, so I'm referring to sizing up players by their bets) I like to think is a strength of mine, and so again I'm best suited for single-table play — you get moved around too often in multi-table tournaments.
I think I could really move to a higher level, both in the poker learning curve and the dollar level I'm playing at, if I could practice what I preach in terms of discipline. I'm no all-in donkey, but I still make WAAAAAAAY too many crying calls (calling a large bet with a mediocre hand out of frustration or spite). After each session I bust out of, I ask myself what I did wrong, and the answer is invariably that I put all my chips at stake with something, like top pair/good kicker, that I had no business putting all my chips on the line for because I'm annoyed at the player in the pot with me or I just get married to my hand.
These sort of plays are emotionally involving, something that makes me worried I'd be a big tell machine if I were to play seriously in live games. I am a regular at two home games, but I don't think either of them include anyone sophisticated enough to pick up on all but the most obvious tells from a player's mannerisms (certainly not me), but I will be going to Atlantic City this summer to play poker and I'd like to think I won't be eaten alive by the leathery old pros.
Anyway, my online poker attention is mainly focused on a World Series of Poker Ladder tournament at Island Poker. It's a series of tournaments wherein a victory gets you "tokens" to buy in to the next level or the ladder (which you can also buy into with cash). Step one is a nickel, step seven is $2,500 ... and the winner of the step seven table gets entered in the World Series of Poker Main Event in July.
I've clawed my way to step five (which costs $63 to buy into directly), and I played it tonight. The most I've ever paid to play in a tournament was $20, and that would be my home games' buy-ins. I'm a little more reticent about spending serious money at online poker rooms, even though I have money spread out at several different sites.
Anyway, the point is, this was the most expensive (if one were to buy in directly) poker tournament I've ever played in, and a level where there are no donkeys (poor players) left.
Everyone (save one guy) played pretty tight and I was able to steal some blinds as a result and get into second place pretty early. There was an all-in battle (I forget what they had) that left one guy with just 100 chips (we started with 1,500 chips). Down to almost nothing, this guy started playing uber-aggressively, either going all in pre-flop or just after the flop. No one had the hands (guts?) to call him out, though, even though it was clear he was stealing and praying. He made his all the way back to 900 chips or so without a showdown. When he went all-in again, I decided to look him up with 88.
He had Ace-5, and an Ace came down, knocking me down to 100 and thoroughly demoralizing me. I'd been looking forward to this tournament and, once again, I made an impatient play that cost me. I was right to assume I was ahead, but I also had to think chances were good he had an over card, so it was risky making that call and it burned me.
Now I'm the one who has to make a move. I tripled up to 300 going all-in on J9 when a Jack and a 9 hit the flop, and my 22 on the very next hand held up against A7. Three hands later, I limped in with JQ of clubs from the dealer button. The flop came down Ac, Jh, 9c. There were three others in the hand. The first player made a pot-sized bet, and then something quite surprising happened, considering how tight the table was. The second player to act went all in, and the third player called.
I said earlier that I don't chase. But my thinking was, I'm still the short stack, and if a club hits I'm going to triple up and then some, as long as someone else doesn't have two clubs including the King themselves (or if they have the King of clubs and a non-club, and clubs hit on both the turn and river, but that seemed pretty unlikely of a hand to go/call all-in with in the first place). I called (then the first guy folded).
Turns out no one had any clubs at all. I was up against AA and AJ. The turn was a three of clubs, I let out a war whoop. Now I'm just hoping the board doesn't pair (which would give Mr. AA a Full House). The river was the five of hearts, and in the space of five hands (two of which I didn't play in), I went from 100 chips (600 chips fewer than the next guy) to a pretty commanding lead.
I redoubled my discipline and I'm happy to report I did not squander my lead. I did slip into second place, slightly, when we got to heads up, and then I went all-in with AQ and got called by AJ ... and a jack hit on the flop.
It was a moral victory for me, though. I really wanted to prove to myself that I could play at a donkey-free level of the stratosphere, and I think I did. I did benefit from some lucky breaks, but I did have (conceivably) nine outs, with both the turn and the river to give it to me, on the crucial hand I outlined above, so that's not totally a suck-out. And as runner-up, I win the right to try again at the same level.
So in my last five single-table tournaments (not all of them WSOP ladder tourneys), I've moneyed in four of them, finishing first, first, second (the one I wrote about here), sixth (you should of seen the crying call I made in that one to bust out), and third. I'm happy. I force myself to try to play some cash games, too, but invariably I will be up 15 cents after two hours and develop a feeling like it's seventh grade again and I'm stuck inside doing homework.
Why can't becoming a master at something be entirely easy and fun?
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