Still the Spank E
12-29-2003, 01:20 PM
Now, I do know what circumstances one is NOT supposed to play poker under, but, as I have no real choice of the conditions under which I play every weekend, I am mildly comforted by the fact that yesterday’s “free cash giveaway” I conducted for the lucky few who sat at my $2-$4 table was attributable to something correctable.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle the posting of the (for me) first bad day at the tables (-$120) if—as it happened—it preceded the first opportunity to tell a “major victory” story. Well, it did. As readers of this series know, I had (my first) two trips to the tables each of the couple of weekends preceding this one, and played respectably enough to feel satisfied that I was making acceptable progress toward the goal of “playing one’s best poker every time out.” Not that I did that on my first two trips—my play was uneven—but I DID mix good (sometimes VERY good) play with weak (sometimes VERY weak) play.
This time was different. Oh, I DID play evenly, alright: consistent as diahrrea, but with not as nice a smell.
I work kind of a long week--60 hours between Monday and Friday—and I go to AC on Sundays after a day of, well, near-rest. Saturdays, after all, are the day on which one has to get everything else (laundry, shopping, banking, going to the cigar store) taken care of for the upcoming week if one is to have food, clean clothes, and fresh cigars for the 7:00am – 7:00pm day I log as a part of my regular income-producing activity (i.e., my job). So, even under the best of circumstances, I have to get up on Sunday mornings, get the subway (1 hour) to the bus to AC (2hrs) in order to begin play. I’m not moaning, just describing the setting under which I’m trying to raise my game as high as I possibly can.
Well, this holiday weekend I had relatives come in Wednesday night; showed them the town some; got them to the airport on Saturday; and made it out to the Taj early Sunday morning.
And BOY, did I play badly. I mean, TWILIGHT ZONE-badly. It was like a weird dream where I could see myself making bad plays while powerless to stop me. “No, don’t do THAT!” I could hear myself saying to myself as I looked on, helpless, making several of the truly dumber plays: to no avail, however, as I simply was not listening. I didn’t go in with trash. I managed to stay away from the “non-starters,” but I did play hands post-flop which shouldn’t have been taken past the bets of other players once the flop hit the table but not my hand. At times I played more aggressively than was appropriate PAST the point when it should have been obvious (and WAS to everyone but me) that my opponent had made some sort of ugly, low-limit-game type of drawout. (I mean, I KNOW there are players who will stand all the pressure you can put on them at $2 & $4 a round just to hit that set, I just didn’t play as if I cared even when they’d suddenly reraise my Aces I’d taken to the river).
Okay, I know what I need to do. I need to get more rest; I probably also need to relax a little more on Sunday mornings before getting out of my house--pre-dawn--in order to be on the earliest thing heading South out of New York; I probably need to cut back on my work schedule even at the cost of little weekly dough if I’m going to take this game VERY seriously, which I have every intention of doing. Because while I can and DO take some solace in being able to recognize what appear fixable problems, every second between the moment of recognition and the moment of the problem’s being (permanently) handled is an irritating one. Am I obsessed? Because I WON’T be if anyone can show me some other way of becoming great at this game.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle the posting of the (for me) first bad day at the tables (-$120) if—as it happened—it preceded the first opportunity to tell a “major victory” story. Well, it did. As readers of this series know, I had (my first) two trips to the tables each of the couple of weekends preceding this one, and played respectably enough to feel satisfied that I was making acceptable progress toward the goal of “playing one’s best poker every time out.” Not that I did that on my first two trips—my play was uneven—but I DID mix good (sometimes VERY good) play with weak (sometimes VERY weak) play.
This time was different. Oh, I DID play evenly, alright: consistent as diahrrea, but with not as nice a smell.
I work kind of a long week--60 hours between Monday and Friday—and I go to AC on Sundays after a day of, well, near-rest. Saturdays, after all, are the day on which one has to get everything else (laundry, shopping, banking, going to the cigar store) taken care of for the upcoming week if one is to have food, clean clothes, and fresh cigars for the 7:00am – 7:00pm day I log as a part of my regular income-producing activity (i.e., my job). So, even under the best of circumstances, I have to get up on Sunday mornings, get the subway (1 hour) to the bus to AC (2hrs) in order to begin play. I’m not moaning, just describing the setting under which I’m trying to raise my game as high as I possibly can.
Well, this holiday weekend I had relatives come in Wednesday night; showed them the town some; got them to the airport on Saturday; and made it out to the Taj early Sunday morning.
And BOY, did I play badly. I mean, TWILIGHT ZONE-badly. It was like a weird dream where I could see myself making bad plays while powerless to stop me. “No, don’t do THAT!” I could hear myself saying to myself as I looked on, helpless, making several of the truly dumber plays: to no avail, however, as I simply was not listening. I didn’t go in with trash. I managed to stay away from the “non-starters,” but I did play hands post-flop which shouldn’t have been taken past the bets of other players once the flop hit the table but not my hand. At times I played more aggressively than was appropriate PAST the point when it should have been obvious (and WAS to everyone but me) that my opponent had made some sort of ugly, low-limit-game type of drawout. (I mean, I KNOW there are players who will stand all the pressure you can put on them at $2 & $4 a round just to hit that set, I just didn’t play as if I cared even when they’d suddenly reraise my Aces I’d taken to the river).
Okay, I know what I need to do. I need to get more rest; I probably also need to relax a little more on Sunday mornings before getting out of my house--pre-dawn--in order to be on the earliest thing heading South out of New York; I probably need to cut back on my work schedule even at the cost of little weekly dough if I’m going to take this game VERY seriously, which I have every intention of doing. Because while I can and DO take some solace in being able to recognize what appear fixable problems, every second between the moment of recognition and the moment of the problem’s being (permanently) handled is an irritating one. Am I obsessed? Because I WON’T be if anyone can show me some other way of becoming great at this game.