Breaking the Lull

BR: $29,441

I can't play when I'm losing. This is probably one of the reasons I'll never be able to play professionally. I see this deficiet in a lot of other people who play poker (I refrain from the term "poker players" because I think real poker players don't have this kind of problem). And some of these people are really great poker minds, that could make a lot of money if they played more.

Now if the cards start coming badly, sometimes I get upset, sometimes I'm okay with it, but if it keeps happening I almost always have to stop playing. I'm pretty sensitive to how well I'm playing, and can judge if I'm playing well or poorly. So I know it pretty much boils down to this -- when I'm not winning, I start to play worse and worse. Regardless of how I've been playing up to that point, if I don't see results after a few hours of play, I grow weary and stop.

And this isn't just that "I took a bad beat; step up from the table and walk away for a little bit" since it's not walking away to cool off and then coming back totally fresh. It's a disillusionment that compounds over sessions; after a few mildly poor days, I've backed off and haven't played much -- and I do this all the time. It has nothing to do with bankroll management. Bankroll management is lowering the stakes you play, not a total withdrawal from the game. It has to do with my weak mental ability to assess my own ability. Even now, after having played so much poker, I have serious doubts about my abilities. It's a confidence issue. No matter how much I tell myself it's about winning in the long run, losing over a thousand hands makes me question whether I'm a winning poker player -- of course this is stupid (a thousand hands in poker is a statistical blip), but it always gets to me. Maybe over the years this will fade; but I doubt it. More likely is that the number of hands it takes before this bleak outlook sets in will continue to grow -- hopefully to a point when its enough hands to actually be reflective of a realisitic questioning of myself.

You know, I'd say a lot people have the capacity to understand the intellectual components of poker. Learning how to bet, when to fold, reading boards, calling bluffs; most of that stuff is stuff that you can learn. A lot of it is hard, but it's achievable. But the psychological and mental health component of poker is a lot harder to grasp for most players; for one, since the game is constructed around gambling, you tend to find minds of weaker psychological constitution. And secondly, since it's not something most people tend to focus upon as being critical to the game.

But I think probably one of the things most important to financial success in poker is the psychological mentality you approach it with. Granted, this isn't the way a lot of people want to treat the game. They want it to be grandiose and significant; they can admire the man who puts their entire bankroll on the line to play That One Great Game; they can revel in bad beats and they can't stop patting themselves on the back about that hand they played so well. I'm still one of those. And hey, maybe it isn't such a bad thing. It means, on some sense, that I still love the game and I'm not thinking of it like a job.

If you were looking for a Single Enlightening Point to this post; sorry. It's more of a mindless excursion into my thoughts.