Nick loses his money, temper and sanity in the biggest poker downswing of his poker life. Time for a break…
Aaarrgghh! That’s the sound of a heart breaking.
It’s the sound Westley makes when he thinks his true love is dead (if you don’t know what I’m talking about watch The Princess Bride immediately – it’s joyous). It’s also the sound you would have heard if you were outside my flat a few weeks ago. It’s the sound of pain. It’s the sound of a 14 buy-in downswing.
I’m losing. Losing at poker and I loathe it. This is the third really significant downswing of my poker career and it’s in danger of reaching heroic proportions.
Before it started I was having a decent year. I hadn’t been able to play as much as I’d liked but I’d made money and was close to making a long overdue move up in limits. And then the losing started.
Okay, I know that everyone loses. Everyone who’s ever put down money in a poker game loses. Losing is built into the game. The best cash players in the world will lose over 40 percent of the sessions they play – that’s a lot of losing, and that’s the best players. So it isn’t a question of if you’ll lose, it’s when, how much and for how long.
The anatomy of a downswing usually consists of two distinct parts. The first is where you’re playing well but running bad. The second is where you’re playing bad because you’re full of frustration and self-hate and staring into a pit of despair.
Apparently Phil Ivey once said he doesn’t believe in running bad. I have no idea if he actually said it, but if he did he’s either wrong or he’s the only human it’s never happened to… which is a distinct possibility.
I prefer the old poker adage ‘one day you will run worse than you ever thought possible’. In fact, you won’t believe it can happen as badly as it can until it does. It’s like that film you start watching and think, ‘I won’t walk out just yet… it can’t possibly stay this bad… it must get better.’ (Broken Flowers.)
In the beginning
I can still remember some of the beats that started it all. I remember trapping the overaggressive regular in a huge pot, letting him bluff into my set, only for him to hit his two-outer on the river. I remember losing a 200bb pot with A-A against K-K. I remember them all like small grinding deaths. At about seven or eight buy-ins down the frustration started to kick in. You have to understand that I was about to move up; I’d been beating this level regularly – crushing it even; but suddenly I was losing.
Even worse, it was happening quickly. I wasn’t losing a bit, then winning a bit, but dropping overall – I was sitting down for each new session and losing with magnificent regularity. I’ve written several times and said on TV when asked, that if you’re on a bad run and getting frustrated you should take a break from poker. Well, you know what? That’s for pussies. Do you know what the real answer is? It’s simple – play more poker.
Real players take their hits, bite their bottom lip and get back in the game. Plus, you can’t win the money back ‘relaxing and doing something else’ can you? And so we proceed to stage two.
It’s the subject for another column but very, very few people understand how fine the lines are in poker. A winning player only has a small edge in the game, and if you’re playing even a few percent below your best you may not be winning anymore.
At this stage in my journey of spew I wasn’t ‘tilting’ in the conventional sense, but I was playing without confidence and with frustration. If you miss the odd call here and there, or a value bet because you’re scared of being beat, it’s incredibly hard to win. Plus, I was still running bad and getting beaten at every turn.
Worst hand ever
And so a few more buy-ins slipped away and the frustration built and built. Things eventually came to a head (or a bottom) when I realised I was tilting ‘in the conventional sense’.
I played a big pot where my opponent made a suspiciously big bet on the end. I was sure he’d missed a draw – even asked him if he had in the chat box – and guessed his hand. The timer was ticking down… I was sure he’d missed his straight so I… folded. He then showed me his missed straight draw as my chips went his way.
I began to steam in a way I hadn’t done for months, maybe years, culminating in one of the worst hands I’ve ever played. Put it this way, if you ever find yourself saying out loud, alone in the room at 3am, ‘I know you’ve got me beat but I’m calling to find out how,’ you should not be playing.
Anyway I’m now taking a break from poker. Hey, it’s the sensible thing to do. I’m just going to relax, reflect and work on my game. I hope your poker life is like Phil Ivey’s and you never find out what running bad and a big downswing really is. I hope you win and win because this… just… sucks.
Don;t have a downswing of your own, just read Poker Player magazine for free HERE
