100k hand insanity/ a month- long blog.

[daveT]

So, this month is not cool at all.

20,386 hands. I should be at 30,000 right now, I know, but I can't take losing to well as it, and this is rediculous. I am freaking out, checking hand histories, and started smoking again, non-filters.

[image][/image]

I know, everyone must be thinking "what an idiot."

This is my entire data-base of 40,631 hands.

[image][/image]

So, am I a break even player who got stupid lucky at the beginning, or am I a good player running stupid bad. Right now my WR is negative 0.15 BB/100.

I may not know my WR yet, but my SD is 15BB/100.

So, am I a fraud? This very important question will hopefully answer itself in the next 10,000 hands.

[odellthurman]

What limits do you play? Why only 4 tables?

[76slotwhiskey]

So it reads to me that daveT understands himself now and has crossed that bridge that 85% of all players can never even find in the haze. It seems to me that a pro is being born, however, how can playing 100k hands in one month ever be a good play? Maybe this is that final lesson, either way this is a fascinating blog.

[daveT]

“It's for you”

Another day, another night. Once more I am standing at my favorite coffee shop, not for the coffee, but for the teas. The employees take so much pride in their work, they know their teas like alchemists know their elixirs. Everyone has their favorite tea. With so many to choose from, I am stuck in a minute of indecision:

“Yes, I would like a green tea today. Uh, how many do you have?”

The next time I see the employees, they ask me how I liked what I had the last time, as if I remember what I had, but yes, I did enjoy it, except for the toxic blend that kicked off this blog.

One day, I apparently asked the wrong employee what I should try. The last time I ordered a tea, she was standing in the background. “What, you don't want the Black Moreno?”

“No, no, I enjoyed it. I had two of them the other night.”

Last night, I am thinking of what I want. She is standing in the background, but this time walks to the tea rack. “Oh, forget it, I'll just take that....”

“The Black Moreno?” She asks, as she happily takes down the appropriate tin.

It is perhaps the littler things in life that help people's day be bright, or perhaps she is “high maintenance.” Tall, later twenties, gray hair? How can one think of much else to get his mind off poker?

I got a thing for that coffee shop girl (girl)
The pretties girl I ever did see

“Just a bummin' around”

Every needs a Yoda. For those of you who never seen a movie called “Star Wars,” Yoda is some little green alien dude who is the mentor one Luke Skywalker. I'm not a fan of the movie, but a lot people seem to like it.

I met the real flesh- and- blood guy who was Yoda's stand in. He was short, with big ears and big eyes. Sorta looked like Yoda.

When people think of mentors, especially in poker, they think of some high-priced, high-stakes pro. Well, I ended up with John. Was he a pro? Barely. He was a prop who taught me the basics of No Limit Hold'em.

My first day he shoved all-in on me on a bluff, I tanked for a good two minutes on what was actually a super-easy call. For whatever reason, I was afraid of the stakes. No, I was afraid of losing. Having to endure five buy-ins was a little much to handle. To be safe, I raised UTG 5x the blind with pocket queens. Every one at the table laughed, as they had a little more experience than me, and played better than the average 100 NL crowd. Three of the players held up each other's cards to each other and made a bet that they couldn't beat me with their three hands combined. The dealer was all too willing to spread a board. I ended up with Queens full of fours, crushing the six-card-hand I was against.

John took me outside and ripped into my play for the night. He was going to school to be a teacher, and he enjoyed telling me everything I did wrong. “You have to stop using Limit concepts.” “Stop making your opponent's decisions easy.” “Raising ten times the big blind UTG with pocket queens? Who's going to call you unless you are beaten?”

The stuff slowly sank in: “Well, your getting better, don't want you to get too much better.” Thanks, bud.

Since he took on the role of teacher, talking to him about limit hands was impossible. I attempted to give him pointers. “Stop cold-calling before the flop.”

I guess he didn't respect my play. “You play too loose.” This coming from someone who will play 67 suited under the gun at an aggressive table. All the props shared the same leaks. They all played too loose out of the small blind and called too liberally out of the big blind, screaming pot odds.

One day, he took me outside. “Dude, how do you do it? You bet with absolutely nothing, and they all fold?” I don't know. “Do you know why your hyper-aggressive style works.”

“Because you are afraid of me.”

If it was possible, his face would have turned red. “I'm NOT afraid of you, dude. Now think. Why does your style work?” One minute, two minutes, three minutes. “It's because you can't be put on a hand.”

Oh. That was signifigant to learn. I had been playing against players that play my general style during the time. It never occurred to me that my style would confuse anyone. I never had problems putting anyone on a hand. But I know the style, so there are very few surprises. “John, just read the red book, okay.”

“Karma”

One year later, I was standing in front of the Bicycle Casino, smoking a cigarette. A large man came out and asked me for a light.

“Why are such a loser, dude.”

Okay, fine, I had long hair at one time, and I either looked like a girl or someone who would rather be at the beach. I was sick of being called ma'am, so I cut my hair. Now I look like I'd rather be at the beach, and it's true, I would.

“Look at you dude, you have no confidence. How much money have you lost today?”

It's 3 am and I haven't slept for the better part of a day, excuse me.

“I never loose..... Why are laughing, do you think I am a clown.” This guy must be a real riot at the table. I wish I had enough money to play the idiot. But I was playing at the 80 and he was playing at the No Max. It felt like a close call to me. I was pretty sure he was in the mood to use his military expertise on me. Out-weighing me a good hundred pounds, I was sure I could out-run the dude.

“Light on My Shoulder”

Attitudes change and people change too. John, the one-time pro is now a Floor man and Tournament Director. He was attending college to teach math, but that is not longer a concern for him. He is now married with a kid.

My own attitudes changed as well. I decided that I no longer want to play Limit. I turned full-time to No Limit. It took me a while to realize that I hate the game. I just find it boring.

With poker came a change of life and friends, and the ax was bloody indeed. Every wasn't cut immediately, but after time, they were mostly all gone.

One of my friends, who I had known for some time, was on of my largest nay-sayers. I was making money and that was that. I had no need to continue with this. After a time he moved. A month ago, I receive an e-mail. He is playing poker now. “I know, I know,” he wrote. No kidding.

Lest I forget. I will be posting a new graph in two days. I have finally moved up in limits. I am playing full-ring as opposed to 6-max. On a good day, I can push 2,500 hands, and that takes close to twelve hours, running 6 tables.

Although the goal is no longer there, the spirit of the post is still very strong indeed.

[napkins]

[ QUOTE ]
Before I begin to play, I think about that effing tea from the night before. I am reminded of a song that I heard a long time ago, called “coffee shop girl,” About a crush on a coffee shop girl. The Onion newspaper had an article on this just last week. The girl is not hitting on me, she is nice to every one.

She's a vegan.
She says her name is Megan
Though her name tag says Meegan.

[/ QUOTE ]

ozma - decent band if you like weezer types

[daveT]

Okay, so I am still recovering from my 6max debacle. It appears that I am doing about 1.5bb/100 at full ring, which is wholly unacceptable, but I am learning new things every day.....

So after 30,880 hands, I am looking like this.

[image][/image]



Will write some more stuff tonight, hopefully post it tommorrow......

[daveT]

“Much Too Long”

I am laying on the floor. I have a funnel in my mouth. My drinking buddy pours a daiquiri in the funnel. I stop the alcohol with my tongue.

I think I am ready, I don't know, I pull my tongue out of the funnel, and all twenty-four ounces rushes down my throat. The taste is strong fruit. I roll over. I want to puke.

I had made a bet with my buddy. That I could funnel one daiquiri for every inning in a baseball game, and for every score. This sounds easy to me. At most, I would have to stomach twelve of these things. I have watched a little baseball, played as a kid. I know I could do this. There's twenty dollars riding on this one. Four hours of work for me. But that's not as important as needing some cigarettes. I am eighteen. This is my first apartment. My drinking buddy is 27 years old. It didn't occur to me until years later how weird this is.

What's important is my bet. Unfortunately for me, variance has gotten the best of me today. The score is mercifully low, but we are in extra innings. Normally, extra innings may mean 12. Not today.

I don't remember the count, but I think it was in the twenties. I passed out around inning 16.

My buddy told me to keep the money, because I would have won if it was a normal game. He had already took me on a sucker's bet a few weeks before. We are sitting at Harpo's Sports Bar. They serve beer and chicken wings. They have a list of thirty wings. Next to the list is a thermometer. At the bottom sits the Hawaiian Chicken Wings. At the top stands the Three Alarm.

Sometimes, I am not a decisive person. I am wondering about something hot that night. “I'll bet you that you couldn't eat one order of Three Alarm.”

Laughing ensues and twenties are dropped on the table. Not only was I going to get the Greenback, I was getting free beer and wings. I normally ate the Jalepeno wings. This sat somewhere in the middle o f the list. Common sense would say that if these have a “slight kick,” then the Three Alarm would be at least twice as hot. I never let common sense stop me in my life.

If he would have offered to pay my rent......

The Wings came on a plate. My nose immediately started running. It was hay season, yep. My sinuses where completely broken after one wing. I ran to the bathroom half way through every wing, blew my nose, and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like I had sun-burn. My eyes were bloodshot, and tears were streaming down my face.

Four hours had passed. I had drank six beers, and was not only twenty dollars poorer, but had to pay for my own beer and wings. I had finished five wings.

“But daveT, how did you drink in a bar at 18?” In Ohio, the bartenders are laid back, as long as they think you will be “cool.”

“No Compromise”

One of the first card games I learned was “Thirty One.” You are dealt three cards, Face cards are equal to ten points and Ace equal 11, numbered cards are face-value. Two players take turns drawing off a pile and discarding one card, face up. The goal is to score as close as possible to a meld equaling 31: two tens and one ace. This is a game of pure strategy, with very low variance. A good player could easily sweep a bad player. The initial error players make is they play level-one. They wait until they have 31 before they “drop” their hand. A good player realizes that if they are dealt a pat 26 or better, they should drop their hand immediately. The next level involves playing when you are dealt a pat 18, which is the most common situation. You have to observe the cards your opponent is discarding and approximate what they have in their hand. A good player never attempts to score 31. If they happen to hit, they hit, but 28 or better guarantees you a long-term advantage. This game goes into deeper levels when both players knows this concept. A good player will discard an 8 to force their opponent to not drop the winning hand, when the reality is that he only has a 23. These coupes are the essence of playing this game.

Canasta is a variation on rummy, played with two teams, using two decks of cards. You cannot lay down any melds until you have the necessary meld for that level. There are ten levels, starting with two three of a kinds, going on to two straights and one five-of-a-kind. The point of this game is to attempt to toss good cards to your partner, and hopefully discard in a way that tells your partner on the cards you need to create melds in your own hand, while dodging the cards your opponents need. Once again, variance runs very low in this game. Similar to rummy, bad players will attempt to keep all of the aces and face cards. Obviously, you would keep the small cards, and use the aces for straights. Similarly, smaller cards can expand into long straights that you can use with the face cards that you didn't want to toss into the discard pile. My partner in this game had a strategy of discarding a good card, and holding his meld until the discard pile had 25 cards in it, then scoop the entire pile. Knowing this strategy, I would slowly discard my good cards until he held all of the cards. This strategy created huge problems for our opponents, because they would not be able to safely discard anything. Later on, I learned an expanded version of this game. There was six of us, playing on our own. There was a pot of money in the middle of the table, and eggnog flowing freely.

With alcohol, Spades became the main game of my life. Barry Greenstein wrote that bridge was his favorite game, and the reason why he was able to play poker. Spades follows the same general rules, except that all spades and Jokers play trump. The two red 2's were stripped out of the deck. The order of spades was Big Joker, Little Joker, 2, Ace, and so on. The common way of the game was 2 two-player teams. The teams had to attempt to bid as close to 13 books. Two very good teams were able to “fill” all of the books every turn. If your team bid 7 books for example, and you collectively win 7 books, you would score 70 points. If you collected less, you would lose 70 points. Two very good teams would generally try to eke out that one extra book to bust their opposition. It is considered dishonorable to “under-bid” your hand in order to force your opponents to over-bid for an easy bust. In general, two teams each bid 6 books every turn. This, in theory, allows neither team an advantage. Not so. The good players like to play this game to 500. Some people like to play until 300, and luck determines the winner very often with this score. When a team under-bids their hand, they have one point added to their score. For example, if a team bids 6, and they win 7 books, they score 61. It sounds like a good deal, and these extra points are essential to win in a 300- point game. But playing to five hundred creates problems. If two teams have been bidding 6, the whole time, the better team will attempt to under-play their hands and win 6 books every turn, allowing their opposition to win 7 books every hand. Soon the score will be 480 to 488. Sounds like 488 is sure to win, right? Not really, the team with 480 has the advantage, as they have two ways of winning. The first is that they could bid 7 and win the game by two points, or they could bid 6 and under-play their hands, busting themselves for a loss of 60 points. They are tossing two extra books to their opponents. When their opponents add the two extra books to their score, they “zero out” for a loss of 100 points. The good team now has a 40 point lead and a lock on the game. Many players, when learning this coupe, will attempt to toss the extra points to their opponents to quickly, forcing them to lose the 100 points when the scores are in the mid-200's. The hole in this strategy is that once the losing team is behind 100 or more points, they can call “blind 6,” announcing that they will win six books before they see their hands. When they win their six books, and this will happen more often than not, they will win 120 points, usually allowing them to take the lead. Spades lends itself to many strategies. The main thing a player must learn is learn their partner's style, and their opponent's style, and play with the assumption that yes, the bad player will hold out the big Joker until the end. What makes this game important is that the players must learn how to visualize what their opponents and partners are holding, and learn to play their own hands in accordance to that. Sometimes you have to force your own partner to play bad, so that you are able to make your own books.

The common denominator in all of these games is that they all require hand-reading. The strategies on all of these games are based partly on how well I play my own hands, and how well I play my opponent's hand, so to speak. I believe that all of these games were essential to my own poker sense.

I never did play poker for enjoyment. I played specifically to make money, and never understood how people would like to play this game for entertainment. One day, I was playing for no money against a couple of friends. It was three handed and the alcohol was flowing, but not enough to buzz me. I blindly raised and capped off all the streets until the end.

“Is seven high any good?..... Ah ####, man, that's bull####!”

Eventually, I laid a bunch of bad-beats, hitting runner-runner gut-shots to one-card dumb-end straights and rivering sick two outers. I was laughing. It was even funnier because my friends had no idea how to play the game, and they didn't get the joke. They looked at me like I was crazy. “What's so funny about that?” The more they asked what was funny, and the more I tried to explain, the funnier it became, because they simply couldn't understand.

I understood, for the first time, why certain players enjoyed the game. There has to be a malicious satisfaction to hitting the impossible card on the river, taking the so-called good player's money, providing confirmation that the game is pointless and unbeatable.

I remember more than one player looking at me and saying: “See, it's all luck, you play loose, you play tight, no one wins.”

Present hand count: 33,000. I was very sick the other day. I will never drink Garorade again.

[odellthurman]

[ QUOTE ]
What limits do you play? Why only 4 tables?

[/ QUOTE ]

[daveT]

[ QUOTE ]

I am always discouraged when I see a tread that has 400 answers on it. For this reason, I will not post any responses, but I do hope that I write plenty to discuss. I welcome your encouragement and your insults, as I am a firm believer in balance.



[/ QUOTE ]

from post #1

[daveT]

“One Step too Far”

I am sitting at a coffee shop. A jazz band is playing. Not that I am paying much attention. I am very busy.

The music stops. A girl steps to the microphone and tells a poem. I'm still not listening. A Woman screams for more. The girl is 19, of coarse she wants to give more.

Dreaming of a knight in shining armor, a woman finds the man of her dreams. She doesn't realize that he is in fact, human. He tests, pushes, and beats him up, then wonders why he is with her. Such wise words from a child. There was no applause. The poem was too honest. The women didn't ask for more.

“Pandora's Aquarium”

I have been asked on several occasions why I play poker. It took me a long time to figure out a good answer. I have a deep hatred for the game at times. When I am playing it I am loving it. When I have money, I love it. When I am busted, I love it.

I read about The Shadow by Carl Jung. Pure genius. The first step to understand why I play poker was figuring out why I hated myself for playing it so much. The answer is obvious. I grew up in a place that gambling was considered bad. I watched one of my friends win $3,000 on a scratch-off, and lose it all back to scratch-offs. I hated myself for gambling because I couldn't stand the fact of becoming the bad qualities, real or imagined, that comes along with gambling.

So why do I play?

I'm addicted, okay. I got a “perfect” score in the GA test. If I go more than one day without money in action, I get fidgety. I become depressed when I don't play poker. I may not understand heroine addicts, but I can empathize. Don't understand it? No one does.

My answer to why I play poker is this: “Because I am addicted to gambling. I have to play. So, I either can learn to win, or I can just play to play.”

Everyone always gives me an odd look when I tell them this. What did they expect? It is a perfect blanket answer. If I say it is because I like the strategy, or I like to win money, they will ask me if I am addicted. Rather than let them feel self-righteous about putting me down, I give it to them in a full dose. I always hated this conversation. My answer is simple, and ends it right on the spot.

At the start of this blog, I promised to play 100,000 hands this month. If I didn't get my butt rolled over at 6 max, I would have probably done it. I do enjoy playing 6 max more than full ring. I say it is because it is different, but the addict in me really knows it is because I can play more hands. Full ring is soooooo slow.

Well. It took me all of 20k hands to get sick of playing full ring.

One of the biggest problems with addiction is that it always reaches a point where the user doesn't like doing it anymore. One of the great things about addictions is that there are varieties of every vice. If I am going to be a gambling addict, the last thing I want to be is unhappy doing it. So, if I am sick of everything, then I should try something different.
I almost went busto two times this month. The first time was about a week and a half into my project. I had five dollars to my name. I ran that up to a decent roll and played higher, where I nolonger had a descent roll. Then came along the impending downswing.

Why am I so irresponsible? The last time I played limit was 20/40, and I was doing just fine, thank you very much. It is BS that I should have to play small change.

So, a week ago, I am near busto again. But I don't need to worry. As long as the enabler (money) to my addiction is able to be pulled up, I am able to joyously play more.

But man, I couldn't bring myself to open up another limit table. I begin to scan through other things. HORSE may be fun. I was playing horse during my down-swing, playing three tables of limit.

Nah, I really hate Omaha and Razz, plus the stakes suck. I look in the Sit-N-Goes. Well, what is this? Heads up poker tournaments. I never heard of this before. I pop open a table and......

I can play every single hand?

It was like my computer was glowing in light, that there was a certain wisdom to pushing myself to play long, stupid hours. That Poker Stars wasn't trying to kill me after all. That they were pushing me in a different direction.

Heads up is pure action. What's there not to love? Low fluctuations, high expectations.

Well......

I guess I will probably burn out in a week or so. But it is very fun.

I watched a friend's concert last night. Before the show, I tried to explain the excitement that I felt with the discovery of my new game. I was jazzed, ready to go go go. They looked at me funny. They would never ask me why I play. They don't judge.

“Time to Say Goodbye”

I am making this my last entry.

My goal has been not been finished, and it never will.

I would like to thank everyone for taking the time read this. At the beginning, I wasn't sure of what I was doing. I just knew that I was starting to go a little crazy.

I used to write a lot when I was younger. Writing is a soothing thing. It helps to get things out that are on your mind, ultimately helping to clear the brain of other thoughts that prevents focus.

So, yeah, this is it.

I have to be sure to roll the credits. All of my titles in this are actually songs.

#1 Crush by Garbage.
A Whiter Shade of Pale by Sarah Brightman
By Your Side by Sade
Confusing Possibilities by The Six Parts Seven
Dirty Magic by Offspring
Execution Day by Meatloaf
Fishie by Warsaw Villaige Band
Happiness Is a Warm Gun by Tori Amos
It's For You by The Wedding Present
Just a Bummin Around by Jerry Lee Lewis
Karma by The Black Eyed Peas
Light on My Shoulder by Susie Suh
Much Too Long by The Sounds
No Compromise by Paul Oakenfold
One Step too Far by Faithless
Pandora's Aquarium by Tori Amos
Time to Say Goodbye by Andra Boccelli

Okay, I will now volly questions.

Stakes was a broad thing between 1 / 2 and .25 / 50.

Before this I was playing 200 NL live, so yeah, these stakes were highly irritating to play. Thank God for rake-back.