Showing my work
I've been
trying for a week to write this post about the incredibly smooth run I've had
playing poker in LA this past year (my previous time in casino poker in Vegas
was just as smooth as well).* It
was supposed to be about how running good for so long has its own set of
challenges. But everything I wrote
felt long-winded and inauthentic. Apparently, it takes a lot of mental
gymnastics to try to frame running good in a negative light. That's why they call it running
"good". Yes, there are
psychological attachments that need to be guarded against, and it's not all
free puppy dogs and red balloons, but mostly running good is pretty sweet.
What this
piece really needs to be about is what it's like to run good when lazy and
reliant on a unique skill set. I
was lukewarm on poker when I moved to Madison in 2009, and I decided to coast
on my poker skills while I pursued more interesting subjects like
counseling. When Black Friday hit,
I knew I had to put the brakes on my counseling path and spend more time
playing poker, but I wasn't sure whether I just needed to shuffle my priorities
and move poker to the forefront in terms of study and improvement.
I can
think of probably two dozen players who play in my games who I would like to
tag in to make my check/bet/call/fold/raise decisions during hands. I don't think I'm particularly good at
this aspect of poker, and I think most if not all of those two dozen players
would agree with me on this assertion.
I don't really know what to say about this. I have a decent brain in my head, and I could probably get
really good at the k/b/c/f/r stuff if I wanted, but times when I enjoy thinking
about that stuff are fleeting.
When I moved to LA, I realized that I might have to spend some time on
raw strategy study just to regain competence at a form of poker I hadn't played
in 4 years, so I begrudgingly put time into that stuff for a couple
months. This probably helped me
start winning at a decent clip, but it also really wore on me. I was away from home, I was putting
energy into something I didn't really enjoy, and I spent most of my time in a
toxic casino environment. By
Thanksgiving, I almost completely stopped studying strategy and re-focused on
stuff outside of poker (I'll write about that in one of my next posts). I was content to leave my k/b/c/f/r
skills where they were. The poker
skills I developed since then are mostly higher-level operational skills (as opposed to the tactical k/b/c/f/r skills) and are mostly psychological in
nature. This happened naturally...
when left to it's own devices, my mind typically splits time evenly between
figuring out how minds work, boobies, and imagining what it's like to be Jack
White.
So this
is the part where I say my poker results during my first 12 months out here
would almost certainly fit right in with the aforementioned 24 players. That my results are comparable with an
"expert's" expectation would, I imagine, be surprising to many of
these players. For all but a few
extreme cases (e.g., extreme tilters, world-class zen master types), I think
poker players believe that skill level in the k/b/c/f/r tactical arena is the
primary factor in determining a player's true win rate.**
(By the
way, I imagine plenty of players are now clamoring for their LOLSampleSize
Pitchforks and Torches)
Here's
the center of the matter. I would
really like to take credit for my results this year. I have an ego that needs feeding. But anyone with an understanding of statistics would be
quick to point out that a player with a true win rate half the size of my actual
win rate has a ~4% chance of having similar results over this sample (statisticians say that number has to be under 2.5% to be 'significant', though the distinction is pretty arbitrary). I think most of my peers would point to
this tail of the distribution curve and use it as the primary explanation for
my results. I have to concede that
I have been probably been somewhere between lucky and astronomically lucky this
year. This is the trump card that
can be played on any claim I make from here on out. In return, they would probably concede that my stronger
operational skills probably plays some sort of role. As almost always when we seek explanations for results in
poker, "It's probably a little bit of both."
I'm going
to let my ego state its case for "Why operational skills are marginalized
and undervalued." I'm doing
this because:
1) A year is a long fucking time
to constantly tell myself "I know you think you 'earned' this money, but
really you just 'won' it." Sometimes I slip up and let my ego convince me I'm earning what I'm winning
2) Sometimes I actually think my ego has a
good point
3) Fuck everybody anyways
The tactical skill sets are definitely
the biggest barrier to entry for poker players. Any player who can't be bothered with studying and
understanding stuff like FTOP, preflop strategy, pot odds, etc. isn't going to
make it longterm. And this stuff isn't easy for most people. In order to even jump to Level 1*** as a
poker player, you must have some
vision to comprehend the underlying math/logic that drives the game. It's a necessary (but insufficient)
skill set to be a winning player.
That comprehension is part of the poker gene.
My ego
wants to argue that this basic trait that is present in every winning poker
player influences the collective poker belief system more than we would like to
admit. Tactical strategy is one
ingredient that can be manipulated, tested, and proven right or wrong. This appeals to that part of us that
was capable of grasping Level 1 concepts during our poker infancy. In a psychological sense, this ability
to understand, predict, and control aspects of our environment is important in
establishing our identities. The
first question out of our mouths when we meet someone new usually is "What
do you do?" That's not an
accident. For most people in our
culture, choice of occupation is the single biggest aspect of their identities
that they control. For the sake of
our identities, it makes sense to focus on the more controllable, measurable
variables within the profession (in poker's case, this is tactical strategy),
since it offers the best evidence that we are "good" at what we
do. Putting work into tactical
strategy offers consistent positive return on investment... it is hard to get
measurably worse or even measurably stagnant at tactical strategy through
study.
Most of
my work this year has been in areas much less measurable. I have different criteria for game and
seat selection than what is commonly accepted. I have thought long and hard about what makes a losing
player stay at the table longer and what I can do to foster that
attachment. I have a better idea
of what I want people to notice and not notice in regards to my play, and I
have a better idea of how to elicit the desired notice/don't notice
response. I am (and always have
been) a great quitter. I think I'm
great at neutralizing hostile table environments and eliciting more docile,
predictable play.
For the
most part, operational strategies are too chaotic to measure. Because I can't really measure stuff
like how much longer a losing player stays at my table due to my efforts to
emotionally engage him, my identity as a poker player is put into a tenuous
position. My focus is on a lot of
shit that most players don't focus on.
I'm tinkering with new ideas and concepts with no real way of measuring
whether the old or the new idea works better. All I can go by for feedback is my results, and every
poker player will tell you it's dangerous to read too much into results,
especially over a sample like 1500 hours of casino poker. Honestly, it sorta sucks this is the case. I'd love to point to my results as proof of concept. But I know I can't. Even if these results hold up for a
sample deemed to be significant, it still proves jack shit. Working within the unmeasurable human element
necessarily dismisses the entire concept of proof and scientific method.
I would
really like to not give a shit about this stuff. Why should I need to prove that my efforts are good? I know I'm not "supposed" to
care. The fact that I wrote this
piece shows I haven't fully bought in to the Poker is Art paradigm. Artists don't try to sort out cause and
effect. They don't try to
understand what it is about them that makes them successful. They just do what they do until they
can't or don't want to. I guess
that's probably what I need to take from this. Maybe I need to just trust the process. Trust the inner voice that guides
me. Trust that the universe is
playing out the way it needs to.
*** In
poker parlance, a player at Level 0 never considers the perceived strength of
his opponent's hand when making decisions. A player at Level 1 considers the strength of his own hand
and the perceived strength of his opponent's hand in decision-making. A player at Level 2 takes into account
how strong his hand looks to his opponent; a "I think that he thinks my
hand is strong/weak" dynamic.
Levels 3 and up are iterations "I think that he thinks that I
think....." cycle

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