Super Screaming Monkey Tilt

I won’t say that I’m un-tiltable, but its close. The cards are random, bad beats happen, I sometimes make bad decisions, I sometimes get outplayed, and in the end I seem come out ahead. Poker is just a game, and I’m generally winning. Keep it fun.

Well, I’ve been seriously tested in the last week.

In my last several sessions, I’ve suffered the most horrendous stretch of bad beats. I won’t whine much, so indulge me. Aces cracked by kings, jacks, tens, and jacks again, all for large pots. Sets outdrawn by improbable runner-runner flushes. Two- and five-outers hitting on the river for the suckout. Each of these qualified as true bad beats, because my betting on prior streets gave my opponents improper odds to call. So, I was making the correct moves, and getting outdrawn. Repeatedly.

I wasn’t exactly tilting, but its enough to get any player peeved. When this happens, no matter how strong your resolve, you start expecting it. I found myself actually squinting and wincing in anticipatory pain when I’m heads up all-in, and the cards are being dealt out. I’m ahead with an overpair, opponent has one lower pair, and I’m just expecting him to hit a set or two pair. Then, BANG, it happens, and I can stop wincing because the pain has actually arrived.

Reload.

Last night, it all built to a fabulous crescendo. The family was gone for the evening, so I thought I’d settle in for a very rare early on-line session after work. Normally, I only play after the kids are in bed.

Earlier in the day, the phone company dug a trench in my front yard to replace important underground stuff. These are the twenty-something people who barely graduated from high school -- if they were that successful. One kid was wearing overalls and a farmer-style cap from which protruded a massive pile of hair. He looked like a country-bumpkin cartoon character, and he must have been damn hot from the hair alone.

Several days earlier, various colored dashed lines and flags appeared in my yard, marking underground cables, tubes, wires and dungeon corridors. Apparently operating a mini-bobcat with a backhoe is very tricky business. Despite glowing-bright orange, yellow, and red lines on the ground, and flags in case you can’t see the lines, they tore the cable line from the green box sitting on the corner of my lot. TV and internet connection was down for about 30 minutes when I got home, threatening to ruin an otherwise peaceful and entertaining evening.

I wandered outside to watch one guy dig, and another guy watching the guy dig. I had the urge to ask whether they try to avoid the colored marks, or instead they try to hit some of them on purpose, just to piss of the neighborhood. They were able to call upon all of their finely tuned skills and plug the wire back into the box before they left for the evening. Connection restored, evening saved.

I was playing in a Party MTT, a Party cash game, and a Stars SNG at the same time. Smooth sailing. Winning on the cash table, and for once I had no feeling of impending suckout doom. Five players left in the SNG, and I was above average and approaching the money in the MTT.

Suddenly the TV starts sputtering. I look outside, and there’s a guy from the cable company in the trench with a shovel, nosing around. I start to sporadically lose internet connection. No! Not now! I have connection -- don’t fuck with it! Its such a rare occasion that I get to play poker before 10pm, when I’m droopy-eye tired -- please don’t mess this up.

At that precise moment, there was an unbelievable harmonic convergence of good hands on all three tables. In the SNG, I had KK on the button, and I raised. SB, a smaller stack, pushed, and it was BB’s turn to act. In the MTT, the antes had just kicked in, there was a raise in EP, I had KK in the cutoff, and it was folding around to me. On the cash table, I had AKs on the button.

Then, before I could act on any of these hands, the dude in the trench cut off the connection.

I don’t normally react in situations like this, or curse at the top of my lungs. This was different. I was so pissed that I couldn’t see straight. I stomped outside and -- politely, I believe -- asked when connection would be restored.

“The phone guys damaged box.” Yeah, I knew that. “We’ll have ‘er up in about twenty minutes.”

When connection was restored, I was well below average on the MTT. Damn antes. In the SNG, my KK was folded and had lost a bunch to rapidly repeating blinds.. I still haven’t recovered from my fury, and I proceed to donk off my stack in the MTT, and bust out on the bubble in the SNG.

I closed the cash table and bailed out. Operation Peaceful Poker night was in ruins. There was no way that I would be able to play good poker any longer. So, I was way down for the week, and I was as pissed about poker as I can ever get. And, it wasn’t even the poker that got me in such a bad way. Cripes.

I went for a 2-mile jog, in the dark, to clear my head. While jogging, I made the decision that I’m tired of dinking and doinking around with low-stakes on-line poker when I play for higher stakes in live play. My on-line game was starting to feel like a drag at the lower stakes. Playing for relatively small stakes, and getting constantly punched by bad beats, was starting to just suck, and I felt like I was just wasting my time.

So, I made the decision to just put the whole on-line bankroll into action after the jog and either build up a decent bankroll quickly, back to its former status, or flame out in a blaze of glory. This goes against everything that I’ve learned and everything that I’ve taught myself in the last two years. I’ve always played well within my bankroll. I’ve segregated my live bankroll from my cash bankroll. So, while putting my entire on-line bankroll on the line is really only the equivalent of about two live buy-ins for me, its still risking the whole on-line amount. I take personal pride that I’m still building the original $200 deposit from two years ago, but things were sputtering back to start.

After I returned and showered, I sat down and scanned my options. I found a decent $3/6 6-seat NL table that looked about right. This was actually lower than I planned to play, but I gave it a shot.

To my surprise, I played very solid, and won over $400. It felt good. The tilt was completely gone. I was making good decisions, and avoiding trouble. The players in this game were clearly better, and more cautious, than the players in the $1/2 games. It was a bit tighter play, and I was able to get a solid read on each of my opponents and their styles. It may have been because my mind was clear, or because I was proceeding cautiously. I was totally focused on one table.

Whatever the reasons, it was a good end to what could have been an otherwise horrible poker night. I’m ready to continue at these stakes with the plan of building up a real on-line bankroll, so I can play at stakes that feels like it matters. I make better decisions and pay more attention at the higher stakes.

This could be a recipe for disaster, or it could be what my game needs right now. Everyone warns against jumping to higher stakes to make up for bad runs, including me. We’ll see what happens.

Epilogue: I’ve won over $1000 at the $3/6, 6-max tables. I think I’m onto something.