Pokerama-rama! Now with more beer!

Beer, brewing and poker, with possibly some inane drivel on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Friday, December 17, 2004

I suck at live play.

There, I said it. That's never an easy thing to admit, but the more I play with real chips and 3 dimensional people, the more I realize that it's not just bad luck, or bad players sucking out on me--I just suck.

The main problem is that my aggression level is through the basement. It's located somewhere in rural China, or worse, possibly in Hell with Satan and Saddam. When I get online, I have absolutely no problem reraising someone if I want them out of the pot. I'm not afraid. Put real chips in front of me, though, and you can dub me King Limp. King Check-call-fold. The sad thing is that I know it's all mental. I know I should be raising in certain spots, but there's a roadblock in the receptors between my brain and hands. My brain will be screaming out "RAISE! RAISE!", but my hands will say "Nah, I don't think we'll be doing that". And I call.


"I'm afraid to get in a pot with Chad, because he's likely to be holding the nuts."

That wouldn't be a bad thing to hear, if it had only been a one time thing. Was it, though? Oh hell no, that's been said the last 3 times I've played with friends, by 3 different people. Just call me Action Chad. They think-they meaning a few coworkers of mine-that I'll enter a pot with no less than a group I hand, and that couldn't be further from the truth, even if that truth was sipping a Roofie Colada while sitting on a beach at the Rigel IV Club Med. I'll enter a pot with any number of reasonable hands, I just don't showdown with a crap hand. If there's one thing that's worse than a know-it-all that's full of shit, it's a lucky know-it-all that's full of shit.

Last night was no different than it had been the times before it. The first hand of the night I'm dealt pocket 10's, and before it gets to me, someone raises it 10xBB and someone reraises him double, making it 20xBB to me. I have no problem throwing this kind of hand, especially with absolutely no read on either of the players. Muck City, population: my 10's. It turns out the original raiser had 9's and the reraiser had AKs, I think, and they both slowed down post-flop, and if I'd called, would've been priced in to hit a straight on the river. Not a huge deal.

Second hand, I'm dealt JQs on the Button, and limp in along with 4 others. The flop comes down with a queen and 2 spades, which isn't too bad, considering this is the sort of hand I'd try to stay away from online. There's a minimum bet and two calls in front of me, so I call as well. The turn is a blank. Another a little-above minimum bet, two calls and I fold. Why? I have no clue! I wussed out like, well, a wussy. There's enough in the pot to justify a call, and if I don't have the highest kicker with my Jack, at least I have a halfways decent flush draw. Ah, there you are, King Limp-call-fold. We've been awaiting your arrival.

Suffice it to say, I bubbled-boyed both mini-tournaments I played in last night. The first one I was short-stacked by playing like a donkey. In the second, I made a push with a jack-high flush draw on an Ace high board, you know, like Doyle would, but I, sir, am no Doyle. I'm not even Doyle's second cousin's sister's illegimate third babysitter, and was eliminated when my final spade never surfaced. Phooey.

The money is not a problem, because it's not like we were playing for rent money. It's that I play online and know the correct play most of the time, but when I get to a real table, even though the players are just as terrible, if not worse than Party Poker, my brain seizes. Eeee-ahhh, I'm a donkey. Has anyone else had this problem with the transition from online to live play? If so, any suggestions as to how I can get over this hump?

Ok, I'm done with all that noise.

I just want to say a few things about the WPBT drinkfest. To put it lightly, I'm completely overwhelmed by this small blogging niche we have here. There are so many exceptionally talented people that come from so many different walks of life among us, and to finally see y'all come together in this sort of train-wreck, it can be summed up in one word; amazing. From the trip reports that everybody posted, I feel like I was there. I'm not sure there's such thing as a sympathy hangover, but if there is, I have one. And it's a doozy.

Like I've said before, I'm not on a costant talking basis with anyone from this community-outside of the occasional emails to Chris(that's not a rip on you, Chris!)- but I still feel lucky to be amongst the lot of you. I'm that one person in a group of people that sits back and surveys the scene, just taking everything in. Inhaling the atmosphere. I'm quiet until I get to know someone, and sometimes feel not part of the group. I can say without reservation, that if I'd gone to Vegas last weekend I never would've felt like I don't belong.

Am I a little disappointed that I didn't get to go? Of course, I bet there's not a reader out there that isn't! Will I be first, possibly second in line for the next one? You bet your ass.








2 Comments:

At 11:34 AM, Blogger Felicia :) said...

Don't sweat it, Chad. Now that you've admitted it to yourself, you can work on it.

Glenn used to turn 20 shades of purple and shake like a junkie when he played live. He couldn't raise with a gun to his head. He couldn't raise the absolute, stone cold nuts.

Time and experience turns tight, passive players into world-class players. Believe me, I've seen it over and over again. Even expert theorist Malmuth says that tight, passive players are most likely to become WCP than any other player type. Hang in there.

 
At 11:54 PM, Blogger Dr. Pauly said...

See ya next time!

 

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