So, yeah, I'm on a bit of a downswing recently. As always, I dropped money at the Borgata, first by blowing $2k in a supersat, then by blowing $10k in the main event. The supersat was memorable because I had about an average stack with 75 left. 57 paid. A total donk (keep in mind, my total lack of self-confidence, which you'll certainly see evidenced in the rest of this epic-length post, causes me not to throw the "d-word" around lightly) opens and I shove KK. Barely having me covered, he calls with AJ and rivers the ace of spades (ALWAYS THE FUCKING ACE OF SPADES) to bust me. If I knew he was going to call with AJ, I probably should have folded there; obviously, I had no idea how deep his donkitude ran. It's tough to make calls that actually cost you 5k in equity when the most you can win in a tournament is 8k, but he did it and I was the victim. Oh well.
The main event was more frustrating, because I felt like I played pretty poorly throughout, and thus I feel like I can blame myself for my downfall. I ran super ridiculous silly bazilly hot Day 1, set-over-setting one person, then flopping a set vs. Jeff Madsen's AA in a huge pot, ending the day with a top 10 chip stack. I ended Day 2 with about the same stack; this was frustrating, because I really played kind of passively when people played back at me (and they did this with astounding frequency for a live event!). I busted Day 3 on what amounted to a coinflip, about 20 short of the money. But there were too many spots I missed where I could have picked up chips, and at least two spots where I could have saved tons of chips (I made two hero calls that turned out to be wrong; once with 4th pair against an aggro player and once with top set when every draw got there on the river and the oldest nittiest person ever bet 2/3 pot into me). Oh well. One of these days I'll run Jamie Gold good in a live event, right? Right!
Online, I also feel like I'm playing terribly. I'm also running kind of bad as well, but that's certainly no excuse for how much money I've been spewing. Basically, I've gone on a 15 buyin downswing at 5-10 on full tilt, and it's crushing my soul. I am now without a doubt the donkey in those games, and it feels awful. I can only imagine the regulars in those games laughing at me as I sit down and the game forms around me, 5 people waiting for me to spew off a stack and then reload and spew off some more. Or, in the case of heads-up games, one person doing that. I'm doing everything wrong. I'm playing like a passive bitch in and out of position; I'm not thinking at all when I act, just mashing buttons and hoping some chips go my way, living in total fear of pushing into a big hand, and then doing so anyway (or making a hero call against an obvious better hand). It's like I'm only making haphazard guesses at my opponents' hands. I'm easily trapped, effortlessly bluffed, endlessly fooled.
I used to think I was good at poker, I used to think I was a winner. But I am still a lifetime loser at 5-10. I suppose I should stop playing there until I learn how not to suck at poker again, or at least until I game-select there. Or, just accept that I am not going to be a winner in tough cash games without some serious learning, or fewer tables, or something. Or, most importantly, just take some time before I make each decision. No more auto checking/betting/raising/folding. Not only does that lead to timing tells, it causes me to make the WRONG decision with astounding frequency.
I know this may sound harsh, but it's hard to walk the fine line between being honest with oneself about one's mistakes in the game and full-blown self-loathing. Right now I've crossed into the latter category, and I'm kind of freaking out about it. The funny thing is, it's not even a whole lot of money compared to what I could lose by running bad in one session of 25-50, but I freak out nonetheless. What a bitch I am; I should, in fact, be thankful that I am making these mistakes at 5-10, where I am ridiculously overrolled, than at stakes where playing this atrociously would really hurt me.
It's a pretty nasty cycle. I lose money, tilt, lose more money, whine about it to people, then hate myself for whining, then stay on tilt and predictably, lose more money, etc. I should stop it. Deep down somewhere I know I am successful at poker, and can continue to be in the future. But right now, I'll just wallow in booze and self-pity. At least it'll prevent me from playing in this state of mind!
On a positive note, I luckboxed my way into a seat in the Aussie Millions in January, and I also got 2nd in the 100r, so maybe I'm doing something right in tournaments (read: occasionally I run good enough to overcome my own ineptitude). Those scores, along with sweet sweet Cake Poker 10-20, basically turned a losing month into a breakeven one. But I should really be sticking to winning months, or something.
OK, enough rambling and whining, I'm going to talk about some more "pros." I'll see you all fuckers in Aruba.
: I played with Humberto late in Day 2 of the WSOP ME. I heard Lon and Norm say that he "normally plays good cards." That's the understatement of the fucking century. He isn't just a nit, he's the nittiest nit that ever nitted. He may seem playful with his "chark" and yelling, but when he opens a pot it's AK-AJ, 88+ ALWAYS. I fail to understand how he gets giant stacks in these events. Are people that willing to pay him off? Oh wait, it's a live tournament, so the answer is "yes."
: Actually, I can't really comment much on his game, seeing as he was pretty short-stacked when I sat to his left deep in some event. He seemed nice enough; he even bothered to talk to me in a later tournament when we both went deep. I include him because he reminds me of an incident that reminds me why I really fuckin' hate playing live. Nick and I had a seat right near the rail, so obviously a bunch of railbirds were right up near us. One of these railbirds, as is often the case in a casino, had monster body odor. Not just regular funk, but a cloud of noxious chemicals, an odor resembling rotting sun-baked garbage mixed with fresh vomit and not-so-fresh diapers engulfing our table. Nick, to his credit, politely asked the floor to move the rail away from the table. When this didn't really remedy the situation, I got the feeling that he was about to sit out in protest of this odor. Thankfully, the table broke. Anyway, shower next time you go to a casino, whoever is reading this.
OK I'm sick of writing this and it's becoming rambly anyway. Maybe my next entry will be shorter and less full of self-hate. But probably not.