Archive for the ‘Tilt’ Category

In My Shell

Monday, August 17th, 2009

‘Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air‘. Not just the start of a Candi Staton song but also appalling conduct at a poker table.

I believe it’s because this behaviour has to be resisted at all costs that many players take the only legitimate alternative left open to them, and go ’on tilt’. This is the practice of letting emotions and indiscipline determine your actions after a bad beat or a passage of play that seemed deeply unfair. A classic tilt play might be to re-raise a suspected thief all-in with a trash hand like 4-10o. When the rest of the table can all clearly see that you are ’steaming’ then this sort of bold high-risk manoeuvre can be kindly described as sub-optimal.

I think it’s well documented why a poker player might implode. But it doesn’t have to be caused by a dramatic moment where AA is crushed by A-4. In the hectic world of online poker an opponent is liable to hit the self-destruct button for no apparent reason. He could be a schizophrenic, but a more likely explanation is that most serious players multi-game and may therefore let an abysmal moment elsewhere suddenly affect their performance against you. Alternatively a barrage of seemingly small misfortunes may send a player over the edge. For example, constantly being dealt good hands that you want to play can become sole-destroying if you endlessly flop badly and lose all the pots.

You know that raising big hands pre-flop, such as AK, is generally the right move. Continuation betting a wide range of flops is also advisable, especially against players who you feel are calling with lesser pre-flop hands. Yet, if they keep ‘hitting’ and you keep missing the board then your generally sound strategy just seems costly and ineffective.

From time to time you will hit a rut like this when you keep getting dealt very promising cards only to see your luck run out when it counts. When this happens to me over a prolonged period I feel like my table image is in tatters. My opponents never see my cards because my play pattern constantly seems to be raise – bet – fold. It looks like I’m on tilt so people are liable to show me down with marginal hands. This is all very well if I pick up something special but troublesome if I continue to feed off scraps. As the chip stack dwindles and time marches on the need to make a move only increases and it’s no good simply waiting for AA to come along and save me.

But rather than actually going on tilt in these circumstances I’m more liable to go into my shell. My resolution to avoid the dreaded blow-up can lead me too negatively in the other direction. I have identified this tendency as a ‘leak’ in my game that will need to be addressed from time to time. Prolonged bad luck can make you feel a sense of dread, not hope, when a promising hand is dealt. With this state of mind you almost want to fold AK as soon as you see it, to protect yourself from further pain. This is an unacceptable loss of bottle! To compromise with my fragile state of mind I will sometimes start to limp hands like AK more than usual so that I lose fewer chips when I inevitably miss the flop. But again, such weak, passive play is rarely appropriate. Suddenly I’ll find myself losing pots with AK when the board is initially in my favour. If my limp has allowed five players to see the flop then I’ll have scant grounds for complaint when I get outdrawn, having played the hand poorly.

Ah yes, the dreaded outdraw. Another characteristic I might demonstrate when in ‘shell mode’ is to bet top pair or other strong holdings too lightly. I realise the psychology behind this is that I’m assuming I’ll be outdrawn so betting less might limit my losses when the worst inevitably occurs. This is again poor strategy because betting a good hand weakly is just likely to give opponents better odds and more encouragement to call. If several players draw against you then the chances that one of them will overtake you increases. When this happens it is sometimes too easy to curse the Poker Gods and pity yourself, when the blame lies at your own feet.

Another fault I’m likely to demonstrate at tough times is a simple loss of guile. I don’t like players who never slowplay, even if it’s often unadvisable. The fact is that if I flop a set I don’t want to scare off my opponent in a heads-up scenario just because there’s a flush draw out there. But when the chips are down I can sometimes assume that my one opponent definitely has a flush draw and that he will definitely hit it, unless I bet my set very hard to discourage a call. This is clearly a distorted view of reality that is unlikely to get my big hands paid off. In contrast when playing confidently and running well I will often vary the speed of my play to great effect. If a danger card arrives I will slowdown my play, probably call instead of raise, and often win anyway.

One conclusion from all this might be to simply avoid playing when your state of mind is wrong. But a good player will need to learn to persevere through the tough times and not just walk away from them. However, tilting or retreating into your shell are unlikely ways to return to form.

Coping

Monday, December 8th, 2008

This week’s blog comes straight from the psychiatrist’s sofa as yet again I ponder why I put myself through the ringer of inevitable frequent disappointment that poker throws up. You know that bad beats will happen; you know that good play will often go unrewarded and therefore you learn to prepare yourself for the worst. Consequently, I would say that 95% of the time bad luck doesn’t really affect me anymore, mainly because it becomes so familiar and assumed. Becoming emotional and self-pitying not only doesn’t feel great but can also be counter-productive. The dreaded ‘Tilt Factor’ – not the latest Simon Cowell project – but the propensity to play worse when things are going against you, has to be avoided. Coping becomes one of the key components of a poker player’s weaponry. I try to view dealing with disappointment as a very real part of the game. It’s a skill in the same way that slowplaying trips is; the best players also tend to be the ones who cope the best. That said, you wouldn’t be human if every now and again frustration didn’t get the better of you. At such times, by all means knock your head repeatedly against a wall, but just don’t play poker for a bit.

There’s a big weekly multi-table tournament I like to play in that yesterday left me, yet again, lamenting the cruelty of this wretched game. There’s no happy ending to this story so I’ll cut to the chase to avoid building up suspense. I was nicely stacked and undeniably getting quite hopeful of a good money finish when the key moment arrived. A player who had raised my big blind in a middle-late seat on two recent occasions opened the betting up again with the same move. Given his position and the frequency of this play I was pretty sure he was stealing and knew that I should defend my big blind where possible. I had folded with junk on the previous two occasions but felt that my Qc-10c was attractive this time round. I called the raise and was not displeased with the ensuing flop of 10s-9d-4s. I checked into the pre-flop raiser, anticipating a continuation bet to follow regardless of how well his cards had connected with the flop. To my surprise the bet that arrived was an all-in one for about 17,000 chips. To put this in perspective the pot prior to the all-in was around 5,500 so this was an aggressive move to say the least. Furthermore, I sat there with about 20,000 chips to my name so my tournament future to all intents and purposes hung on whether to call.

I thought over the play pattern to this point and made my read. I didn’t know a lot about this player but the phrase ‘loose aggressive’ was increasingly coming to mind. I didn’t think I was facing a lunatic so I ruled out the possibility of a complete bluff; he had something but what? Well, in my experience this is a move that some players like to make with a flush draw and that was certainly a possibility with two spades on board. If he held Q-J, or even 7-8 he might even have made this move with the straight draw. For some reason A-9 then popped into my head as the sort of hand that might get raised with and played like this. But the key issue in my thinking was the size of that all-in bet, relative to the pot. It wasn’t a bet that wanted a call. This more than anything suggested there was enough weakness there to make my Q-10 a favourite. Of course you can never be sure. Some players might make that aggressive plunge with a hand that did have me beat, such as K-10, A-10 or JJ. But with those hands I knew I wouldn’t have moved all-in against a big blind with a comparable stack, because I would feel strong. It was settled then. I liked my prospects of being in front after the flop and I called. To my initial delight he turned over Kd-9d and I was an 80% favourite to win with two cards to come. The turn brought a terrifying rag diamond to suddenly give my opponent flush possibilities and more outs. The flush never arrived but a king did spike on the river to defeat me in cruel fashion. I had been a 4-1 favourite when all the chips went in and had that held I would have sat amongst the chip leaders as we entered the home stretch. But it wasn’t to be….again!

The main reason this hurt was that my prospects of a big payday were really pretty good if this one hand had held up. Knowing that you’ve made a great call in tough circumstances should be a massive consolation, and ultimately it is. Much worse to fold the best hand because you’re a wimp and then see your chip stack just wither away. That said, going out playing well is no consolation whatsoever in the moment it happens. It makes things feel considerably worse as the sense of injustice reaches boiling point. Stupidly, I then did something that could only make me feel worse. I followed the progress of my lucky conqueror as he marched all the way to the final table. Having badbeat me to stay in, he finished sixth and collected nearly $7000. ‘That could have been me,’ I thought. ‘Should have been me!’ In future I will try to cope better.

Simon Ballou writes for Oddschecker Poker