The Poker Grafter

Poker is a very frustrating game. I can’t help thinking I may have mentioned this before; conceivably every time I’ve come to write on the subject in fact. But this inescapable truth masks the flipside that the glory days can be all the sweeter as a consequence. It’s the thrill of the chase that makes achieving the goal in the end even more special. Take Lewis Hamilton for instance. It would have been extraordinary if he’d won the Formula 1 World Championship in his very first season behind the wheel. But ultimately he narrowly missed out, ensuring that a future triumph will mean even more to him, having endured his own nasty ‘badbeat’. In poker, all long-term success seems to be hard-earnt.

So it came to be that this week provided me with some all-too-rare moments to savour of my own. Having endured a fortnight of lucklessness I entered a Blue Square sponsorship freeroll with the nagging feeling that I was due a change in fortune. In fairness, I’ve felt this way on many occasions and it tends to make very little difference. With 13 runners competing for one prize the odds didn’t look too promising. But after a few early casualties and an hour of quite uneventful play the interest level began to rise. Then, in my first significant moment of the tournament two players moved all-in while I waited in the big blind with KK. The first all-in looked a little desperate and the second all-in came from the chipleader who was in a position to call with an unspectacular hand. Given this, I had no hesitation to throw in all my chips knowing that if I was beat I was very unlucky. The KK held-up and I instantly became the chipleader myself. It seemed too good to be true and it was.

With confidence levels soaring I began to fancy my chances with 7 players remaining and a decent stack behind me. Having been very inactive for the first hour of the game the KK bonanza seemed to spark a card rush for me. I raised with good cards on three of the next four hands and won every pot uncontested. This was a little disappointing because although I won the increasingly desirable blinds it would have been nice to get some action with the great cards I was being dealt. Furthermore, my table image had transformed in an instant from a rock to a big stack bully. This is ok, but can make it harder to genuinely steal blinds from suspicious opponents later on.

Moments later I was dealt QQ on the button and immediately sensed that this could be a pivotal moment. The play was folded round whereby I raised the pot by 2.5 times the big blind hoping that my recent play pattern and the bet size would create maximum suspicion. I was hoping to entice an all-in re-raise defence from the relatively aggressive big blind but instead he flat called. The flop came 6-6-10 and I bet out for half the pot. The big blind immediately moved all-in and I had little hesitation in calling. To my joy he turned over 3-3. If the turn and river came without a three then I would have four times more chips than anybody else at the table and more than half the total chips in play with 6 players remaining. Of course I was spiked by a 3 on the river. It was the classic 2-outer badbeat and all that hope and expectation vanished in an instant.

When the dust settled and I tried to regain my composure I grudgingly had to tell myself that I still had a playable stack, which was true. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and to go about trying to rebuild a stack all over again. There would be plenty of time for self-pity and licking of wounds later on. Things quickly picked up again, even if it still felt like the world was against me. I seemed to be getting more good start cards than most of my rivals and with the obvious exception they were winning. I knocked out two players with A-J against very little and with J-J against 10-10 when we were 4-handed. There’s no doubting that this timing was lucky even though the best hand won. My most pleasing move was to come shortly after the play became 3-handed. I re-raised my ‘nemesis’ (who had 2-outed me on the river earlier) with a check raise bluff after which he had to move all-in or fold. Fortunately he folded, and once again in this rollercoaster contest I was chipleader.

But yet again disappointment was waiting just round the corner. I lost two coinflips against the smallest stack who consequently became the chip leader while I faltered. The new chipleader then continued his momentum by knocking out my ‘nemesis’ in third place. That should have been my job really but no matter, at least we were heads up now. There was just one problem. This was a winner-takes-all contest and my one remaining opponent had a 4:1 chip advantage. The situation looked bleak but I knew that if I could get lucky and win one all-in showdown then I had a chance. I pushed a few hands later with A-rag, was called by K-10 and narrowly won with marginally the best hand. After that I managed to win a few more of the small pots, edging me into a narrow lead before one massive hand decided matters. My opponent made a standard raise, off which I pushed all-in with JJ. He called for the rest of his stack with 6-6 and on this occasion there was to be no more two-outer heartache. Victory was secured and with it a $5000 sponsorship package, and a chance to mix it with the big names. Good times indeed.

Simon Ballou writes for Oddschecker Poker

Satellite tournaments are run to give players the chance to win big cash prizes for a small initial investment. The prize pool in a £500 entry event may seem very alluring but not that many of us want to put up that £500 to chance our arm. But a satellite tournament might give us a chance to turn £50 into £500 and then a few thousand more after that. This format appeals to the greed and vanity of any player who rates himself pretty highly but may not a have a sizeable bankroll behind him. The structure is equally attractive to the shrewd and thrifty individual who may have sizeable funds, but is protective of them, and likes the idea of a cheap shot at a hefty prize. All and all, satellites gain a lot of interest from punters across the spectrum.

The drawback of these events is that the juicy, dangled carrot of big-time success will seldom be munched, even by good players. If we assume that a typical satellite will reward about 10% of the field with a place at the main event, we begin to see why. A decent player may reasonably hope to qualify about once in every three attempts with this ratio. Then, if the top 10% of players receive all the money in the main event, a similar conversion rate could be expected. I would suggest that these success rates are still optimistic for most mere mortals, but even they indicate that money back from the initial investment may only occur about once in every six attempts. This may all sound quite discouraging but slow conversion rates will be the last thing on your mind when you see that £50 turned into £8000.

Another pleasing revelation is that many players are simply horrendous at playing the satellite format, with its unusual dynamic. The key concept to grasp, and it sounds patronising to spell it out, is that there are no winners, only qualifiers. If 20 people earn a seat at the main event then 20^th is as worthwhile as 1^st. Yet unbelievably there are always clowns in these events who are determined to risk everything to have the biggest chip stack. ‘What can I tell you, I’m a winner. I play to win,’ is the sort of ludicrous twaddle I’ve heard too many times to count. What could be more impressive than beating a group of individuals who don’t mind being beaten? Well, pretty much everything. If I’m in 12^th position and have accurately calculated that I can qualify from this spot without playing another hand then that’s what I’ll do. Mission has been accomplished. It’s what any sane individual would do. Poker prowess has very little to do with it.

Satisfyingly, if you play even a few satellites I can almost guarantee you will witness one of these macho bullies knock himself out when he could have left the room and still qualified. Adrenalin junkies feel compelled to play average hands when they should even be throwing away aces. Then, at the opposite end of the scale, but equally incompetent in their own way, lurks the satellite coward.

An online satellite I was recently in had a rather generous 100 seats to be won with 130 players remaining. Surprisingly, the blinds weren’t too high yet so most of us weren’t feeling much pressure. Then the rather inactive player to my left sent a message saying ‘Let’s all fold every hand and we’ll all qualify.’ This sentiment was soon followed by ‘Ok? Is everyone agreed?’ Only two other players were keen to join his gang largely because it was far too early for most people to coast home without playing. He simply had no idea how long these 30 people would hold on for and how the blinds would inevitably reach nosebleed territory. The result of his initiative was predictable. A couple of us stole his blinds every time round and he was the first at the table to bust out. He might as well have posted a note saying ‘I’m nervous about playing and will fold everything unless I have a monster.’

It’s always amusing to see a player try to organise a communal pact in an internet game. It may be possible if attempted in a live game by a large, unforgiving fellow who seems adamant about people toeing the party line – but not online. It seems to be the height of optimism to expect a group of poker players to abandon their natural instincts to join a socialist movement.

Satellites may be lucrative if played sensibly, yet not fearfully. Only time will tell. Success can’t be analysed in anything but the long term and may suit one individual more than another. But one thing is for sure, the format brings out all the game’s odd characters.

Simon Ballou writes for Oddschecker Poker