After being one myself, early in my professional poker career at Ocean’s 11 Casino in Oceanside, CA, I learned the hard way to never be one again. First, this guy James, who I always wrecked, literally threatened to kill me. He even brought a Hell’s Angel in one day to sit behind me. Then, the nice recreational players asked me to move to Vegas to “go fish in a bigger pond”. So, I left the juiciest 10-10 NL game on the planet–an absolute berry patch for me–and I moved to Vegas.
The games were tougher in Vegas. There were other pros. I was no longer the only one at the table trying their absolute hardest to win every chip, while giving nothing back to the game: no loose action, no table talk, no jokes, no camaraderie, no dialing down my focus on playing each hand perfectly whatsoever. I had to adjust. I had to find a new exploit.
Playing solid poker in juicy games was no longer a profitable strategy, because I was no longer playing in juicy games.. So, I started covering the table and putting all the pros to the test whenever they were capped at one pair. They were either dead or flipping (more often flipping than dead, but you know what I mean) if they called my all in. They knew that. And they knew that I could have any two cards every hand, because I was playing just about every hand (3bets and 4bets were rare in 2008).
Great poker players adjust to whatever playing conditions they find themselves in. And I was a great poker player–kind of. I was winning just as much, if not more in the tougher Las Vegas games than I was on the soft San Diego games. But looking back, I still didn’t know shit. I was still a nit, even though my VPIP was through the roof.
A nit is anyone who takes more than they give.
Psychologically destroying your opponents can be fun–for a while. Winning all their money and living an extravagant life style can be fun–for a while. But then what?
Human beings want fulfillment. They want to do good in the world. They want to reciprocate. Deep down it’s one of the only things that truly feels pure deep down in your soul. They also need to fund the lifestyle they’ve grown accustomed to. So, I found a better way to play poker. Play your B- game so that it’s a better experience for all the rich guys who just want to have fun while disposing of their disposable income. You will still win just as much, if not more, because you will get action like you never got before, and you won’t feel like a parasite each time you leave the casino.
Full disclosure: this was partly an epiphany/conscious adjustment I made to feel better inside and it was partly something I did out of necessity. My edge on the pros was shrinking, as they started buying in shorter, protecting their ranges, getting up whenever a game got short-handed.
I won a lot of money playing poker for a lot of years, the nit way, and the communal way. And then in 2017, 13 years into my professional poker career, the impossible happened. I lost. I experienced the longest and nastiest stretch of negative variance I’d ever witnessed, far beyond what I thought was even possible. All year I got the money in good and lost.
The session that broke me began as 5-10 at the Aria. I lost a huge pot all in with AK to AQ. Then, I got it all in against the same guy with KK. He had AQ again, a hand people haven’t been able to fold to me ever since I changed my game in 2008. He was not sent to the parking lot. Nope, he was sitting on a 20k stack at the conclusion of that one…
We kicked up the game and I added on. Someone raised, a bunch of people called, I called in position with Q5 suited. Mr. AQ, re-raised from the big blind, and when he did, I thought TT or JJ was his most likely holding. I’m an incredibly sensitive dude and therefore pick up on everything. His sizing, the force of which he made the raise, his body language, all of it told me he likely had one of these two hands. A few people called in front of me and I called too, closing the action.
The flop came out QQJ with a flush draw. The action checked to me and I bet small, hoping someone had a Jack and would get reeled into a big pot with me. Mr. AQ, who I didn’t think had AQ this time, raised. “Oh shit, he flopped a boat. He’s got JJ,” I thought immediately.
The other players folded and I called, looking for a 5 preferably, the case Q as a second choice, and runner runner of the same card as a third choice.
The turn was a 5!
Mr. AQ bet a few thousand and I raised a few thousand more. I knew he was going all in and he did so immediately. I called quickly and turned over my hand to be a gentleman. Even though he had run so hot against me on this day, he was a recreational player and I was a pro. And I was pretty certain he was drawing to 1 out, with one card to come, with over 40k in the middle.
He didn’t show.
River, J, for a board of QQJ5J.
He finally turned over JJ and scooped the 40k+ pot. That was it. That pot swung me from slight winner for the year to slight loser. My first losing year ever (and I played many years before I became a professional). I was in disbelief. I was broken. I was broke.
The tail end of this death run in 2017 coincided with me finally hitting rock bottom in my personal life. What a blessing, looking back. I may never have become a content creator and community builder had 2017 gone differently. I may never have gotten to experience the fulfillment I know have, as someone who enriches people’s lives by providing regular escapes/and entertainment and more importantly, bringing them together.