Posts by Jaymind:
Stupid Continuation Bets
September 4th, 2011
Limit hold’em is rife with continuation bets. One of the main reasons for raising pre-flop is to gain control of the hand, and bet the flop no matter what, forcing your opponent to make a decision. The same can be said of no-limit hold’em, though there are differences in the two games. For one, no-limit hold’em players choose the size of their wager. As such, they can manipulate the action far more successfully. It’s more difficult to call a $100 bet than it is an $8 bet. As a result, there are typically fewer opponents in a no-limit hold’em situation. If you raise pre-flop, there is only a small chance of getting three or more callers. In a limit hold’em game, the chances are quite good that you’ll be initiating a multiple-way pot.
Continuation bets are so automatic in our brains, as limit hold’em players, that we sometimes forget to think. I only bring this up because I was recently faced with a hand that occurs, in one variation or another, several times per session. It is a more or less forgettable situation, but one that deserves a small amount of consideration.
I raised under-the-gun with A
K
. Four players behind me called, and the blinds folded. We took the flop five-handed. The flop was 8
7 5
. I’m first to act, and of course, since I’m still in “control” of the hand, my instinct is to bet. But come on! I can’t put another single dollar into this pot. Not one. There’s no reasonable justification for a bet. What’s the best possible outcome? Everybody folds, right? That’s never going to happen. Let’s say you get two or three callers; do you bet the turn no matter what? The flop is too coordinated, and you have too many opponents. It’s an auto-check-fold scenario.
Let’s say the same pre-flop action occurred, but instead of having Big-Slick, I had 88. Now, the flop is A K 9
. Again, I don’t see any way a bet makes sense. You have four opponents; what is the likelihood you have the best hand? Not very good. And what are the odds that you force every other superior hand to fold, with limited wagers, out of position? Just give up, homie.
I’m not saying anything the least bit innovative or new. These are very fundamental observations. But, that said, I still see these plays being made regularly by very good poker players. It’s just a matter of contemplating the hand and realizing that, despite your instincts to be aggressive, check-folding is a play that more often needs to be utilized.
Most Expensive Loss
August 21st, 2011
There are a number of explanations for losing money at the poker table. Typically, you’re either playing shitty or your opponents are getting unreasonably lucky. There is another less common explanation, however, that is no less frustrating: The Most Expensive Loss Hands.
I was playing a limit hold’em game recently, and after three limpers, I limped-in in the cut-off with A-9 suited. The flop was A-7-2. Three players checked, and the limper to my right fired a bet. I raised. Everybody folded, and the bettor called me. The turn was a 9, and my opponent once again bet into me. I raised him again. He called. The turn was a Jack. He checked, and I bet. He check-raised me! I called, and he turned over A-J for the win.
I don’t think I played the hand poorly. I could’ve raised pre-flop, I suppose, but I don’t think that would’ve changed the outcome of the hand. I raised in position on the flop with top-pair, and raised again when I turned top-two-pair. I had to bet the river when he checked to me, and unfortunately, I also had to call his check-raise.
Did he get unreasonably lucky? Not really. I was very fortunate to get the three-outer I needed on the turn, and he was simply retaking the pot on the river with his three-outer.
This is a Most Expensive Loss Hand. The person to blame on this hand (since I always need somebody to blame) is the dealer. I can’t be mad that I lost the hand, really. My opponent had a better hand than I did! But why did the cards have to fall in the order in which they did? I turned top-two-pair for two large bets, and then gave another two large bets when he rivered me! I’m willing to concede the pot; but why did the pot have to be so damned expensive?!?
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Lazy Plays
August 8th, 2011
Limit hold’em can be a fast-paced mechanical game. I’ve heard the phrase, “No-limit hold’em is art; limit hold’em is science.” In a certain sense, this is true. The speed of the game is increased when players do not have to determine betting size. And, when the speed of the game is increased, it’s easier to become lazy, mechanical and thoughtless. You’ve seen the exact same hand with the exact same opponents with the exact same action so many times that it’s very easy to become robotic and reactionary, as opposed to actually thinking out a specific situation.
Take, for instance, a hand I recently played at the 8-16 limit hold’em table. In middle position, I looked down at K
Q and raised. The button called, as did the big-blind. The flop was 8
6
5
. The big-blind reached for his chips as if to bet, and then checked. I bet. The button called. And the big-blind check-raised me.
At this moment, I got truly angry with myself. I mucked my cards, and openly laughed at how stupidly I played the hand. The flop is terrible, first of all. Look at that thing! There isn’t a worse imaginable flop, really. If the flop at least had a dry Ace, I could pretend I had one with a continuation-bet. To make matters worse, the big-blind did everything short of putting up a blinking neon sign that said, “I liked that flop!”
Why the hell did I bet? It’s so ingrained in me to continuation-bet the flop against a limited number of opponents. But that doesn’t mean I should do it every single time! What a dumbass! It’s just so lazy. Really, the big-blind played his hand equally mechanically (though ultimately successfully, given my total stupidity). He could’ve just bet the flop, but his instincts told him to check because the moron pre-flop raiser will bet every time. And I didn’t prove him wrong…
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Noteworthy Hand 16.0
July 29th, 2011
8-16 limit hold’em. I’m in the cutoff. Three players limp. I look down at K
Q and raise. The small-blind folds, the big-blind calls, as do all three limpers. We see the flop five-handed.
The flop is K
62. What a gorgeous flop, right? Everybody checks to me, and I bet. Three players fold, and the fourth player calls me.
The turn is the A
. He checks to me, and I bet. He calls.
The river is the 7
, and he checks again. I began to think, and it took me a long time to come up with a decision. Of course, I missed my spades. So now my hand is complete with a pair of kings. I started thinking about the hands he could have. It seemed most likely to me that he either had a medium-sized pocket pair (or a six), a failed flush draw of his own, or a small king. In all of these scenarios, a bet seemed like the wisest play. I don’t believe he turned two-pair with the ace, as he’d have bet into me or check-raised me then. He didn’t have a set of sevens, I didn’t believe. It seems to me he would’ve bet into me with that. (And even if he did have that specific hand, I can’t check simply because there’s a chance he could’ve rivered me). The only hand I could put him on that contained an Ace was a busted Ace-high flush draw. But I didn’t think that was the case.
So I, a little light, value-bet the river. He immediately called. I turned over my hand. He quickly turned his hand face up: A5.
I could never have put him on that hand! Nice two-outer.
I guess reason and logic doesn’t apply to all situations, particularly when dealing with a player without a shred of reason or logic.
Good hand?
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Lifestyle of Limit 5.0
July 25th, 2011
It’s now widely understood that poker is a game of skill. Few people would argue this point. The typical non-poker player, however, would probably believe that what makes a poker player skillful is his ability to physically read his opponents. Films like Rounders support this assumption. Reading your opponents is, of course, an important talent to possess if you wish to be successful. Reading strictly physical tells, however, is a necessary tool for tournament players far more than limit cash game players. To answer the question, “Do limit cash game players use physical tells to determine the relative strength of their hands?”, I would answer, “Yeah, kinda’”
The reason physical tells are so crucial to tournament success is because of the magnified significance of every decision. Players act slowly and take their time calculating the best move. And they should! Every play could potentially cost them their entire stack and send them off toward the rail. Also, each player must determine how much they wish to bet. They can bet nothing, or they can bet everything! Limit hold’em players don’t have to make that determination. The wager is set for them. As a result of this, bluffing is more rampant in a no-limit game than it is at the limit table. Calling $125 to win a pot of $150 is a far more difficult decision than deciding whether or not to call $12 for the same $150 pot. Bluffing is easier when you really have to make your opponent think about what he might lose if he’s wrong. Bluffing also makes many players physically uncomfortable, and the pros pounce on this.
Okay, yes, no-limit hold’em tournament players use physical tell interpretation as part of their strategy more often than limit cash game players. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that us limit guys don’t interpret our opponents physical behavior sometimes. We do! But in a different way…
For example, a gentleman at my recent limit hold’em game open-raised under-the-gun. Two players called, as did I, on the button with Q
10. The big-blind also called and we saw the flop five-handed. The flop was Q
J
2
. The big-blind checked to the original raiser, and he bet. Action folded to me, and I raised. The big-blind called two bets cold, and the preflop raiser just called.
The turn was the 10
. The big-blind checked. The original raiser reached for his chips, then stopped himself. Then he checked. It doesn’t take a professional to see what’s going on here. Yes, I turned two-pair. Every justification could be made for betting the turn. That’s the by-the-book correct play. But come on… this dude clearly has big slick! I’m using a mild physical gesture, coupled with information about the way he’s played the hand thus far, to make my determination. He reached for his chips so clearly wanting to bet the turn card he loved so much! But he stopped short, assuming I’d bet it for him. And a lot of times I would! But knowing the way that hand had been played before the turn card reveals a very high probability of his having the nuts. He raised preflop, and then didn’t three-bet me when I raised his flop bet. I’m already somewhat concerned about Ace-King before he makes the gesture toward his chips. Now it’s for sure. I checked.
The river was the K
, just to ensure my fait. The big-blind checked, and the original raiser bet. I folded. The big-blind called and mucked his cards when the raiser turned over AK.
I used the physical read more or less as a tiebreaker. He could’ve had Ace-King anyway, and that turn card, despite giving me two-pair, is scary. I was on the fence about whether or not my hand was good until the man accidentally revealed the strength of his cards. This is how physical tells seem to be utilized in a limit hold’em game: to break ties and to add a small piece of evidence to an already expansive field of data about the hand. Also, it is difficult to determine when somebody is bluffing in limit hold’em simply because of their physical demeanor (though this does happen occasionally). But noting physical movement is a helpful tool to understand when a player wishes to conceal how strong he is. My opponent’s natural human instinct was to reach for his stack and bet when he hit that beautiful turn card.
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Live WSOP Coverage
July 19th, 2011
ESPN has been covering the 2011 World Series of Poker Main Event in a very different way than in previous years. They’re doing it live!
The broadcast is tape-delayed perhaps half an hour, and although there is a camera for the hole cards, they are not revealed until the completion of the hand. I, for one, really enjoy this change. I realize that it may not be as exciting for the casual viewer, as the action is perhaps more difficult to follow. What it does allow for, however, is terrific color commentary and analysis. The best move ESPN has ever made came this year when they removed Norman Chad from the booth, and replaced him with a rotating group of prime professionals. Norman Chad has too elementary an understanding of poker to properly commentate, while players like Esfandiari and Hellmuth offer a deeper, more insightful insider perspective.
I think the broadcast is wonderful, and I can’t stop watching! I haven’t been interested in the World Series of Poker for many years, and I applaud ESPN’s effort to try a new format.
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Manufacturing Irritation
July 7th, 2011
Yes, the title of this blog is a nerdy homage to Noam Chomsky.
Like many of you, I am a man without poker. Online poker, though I played sparingly, was taken away months ago. And recently, of course, Canterbury and Running Aces shut down. There isn’t a single place I can go that will offer me my 8-16 limit hold’em fix.
The poker, and therefore financial, aspect of this shutdown is stressful enough. I work only part-time, and rely on poker as a steady supplemental income. If this continues much longer, I may need to make arrangements for additional work hours… or a Vegas run…
Beyond the economic ramifications of this poker-less climate, however, is another equally frustrating problem: I don’t have anybody to play poker with, and therefore be irritated by, and ultimately, write about.
My pessimistic blogs will certainly suffer until this shutdown is lifted. Of course, there is no shortage of sociopaths in day to day life. Poker is simply a microcosm for the cultural narcissism sweeping the nation. But with poker, you’re competing, and you’re doing so in very close quarters. You can’t help but observe and be offended by some of the behavior.
Perhaps I’ll go watch an intense basketball game at the “Y” or watch the Fourth of July Hot Dog Eating Contest (which I totally did) to get my fix of sociopathic competitive conduct. Wait… I’m a poker blogger; not an irritated citizen blogger. Sometimes I forget. I certainly get my share of disgusting human interaction at work, anyway (retail sales).
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The Earth’s Rotation
June 30th, 2011
The 8-16 table on Monday was wild. Yes, 8-16 games are usually very wild, but this one was especially loose and aggressive. Action would be capped pre-flop half the time, and typically five or more players went to the flop. Calling four bets cold was a regular occurrence. Two-outers were rampant, and the best hand had a difficult time holding up against multiple opponents and several large bets.
This had been the consistent table culture for the entirety of my session, perhaps two hours. A gentleman joined the table ninety minutes into my session, and played a few hands. As his third orbit came around, and he was once again in the big-blind, the following action occurred:
The under-the-gun player raised, and two players called. The button three-bet, and the small-blind called all three bets.
The big-blind, looking rather irritated, spoke up: ”I’m so tired of everybody raising my blinds! Y’all think I’m just gonna’ fold, and keep giving you my money! Everybody is always trying to push me out of the pot; well I’ve had enough! Stop always raising my big-blind!” …as he called the three-bet.
This doesn’t sound particularly memorable. But I never stop being appalled at the absolute narcissism of the average poker player. Stop raising your big-blind? Your big-blind? Have you been paying any attention at all to this poker game? EVERY SINGLE HAND IS RAISED. EVERY SINGLE ONE! The audacity, and absolute self-involved self-serving narrative, to convince yourself that the game and its players are collectively plotting and scheming against you.
This is a common pitfall of the bad, lazy poker player. You see it all the time. A player gets raised on the turn: Dammit, this is the third time in a row he’s raised me! A player gets bet into on the river: Everybody’s always trying to push me around! I’m sick of it! Oooh, and the check-raise! Players love to feel victimized by the check-raise: This tricky bastard! He thinks he’s so clever playing that way against me!
As crafty poker players, yes, we’re trained to play against our opponents’ individual style. But more often than not, we’re simply playing situational poker. Do you think when I get A-A pre-flop, I stop to think about who’s in the big-blind? Of course not, I just raise! Even when I calculate who’s in the big-blind in regard to my raise, it’s just poker! Why do people take the plays of their opponents as a calculated assault against them as an individual? Is it possible, just possible, that the actions of your opponents are not initiated as a personal attack against you?
The world does not revolve around you. Nobody gives a shit that you’re in the big-blind. This is how the game is being played, and every single pot is the same way. Get over yourself. It isn’t as though your opponents like you or hate you. We nothing you. You’re an egotistical maniac if you believe the entire climate of a table is based on making you uneasy. Grow up and change your style of play to counteract your opponents, and quit whining about how the world is against you. We don’t care about you, good or bad; we just want your money.
ALSO, FOR ANY READERS WHO ENJOY MY BLOGS, PLEASE CHECK OUT MY NEW, SLIGHTLY ALTERED WEBSITE:
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Blog #100
June 27th, 2011
This blog, this very blog you’re reading, is the 100th time I’ve published my thoughts on MNPokerMag.com
What does that mean? Well, ultimately, it doesn’t mean anything. Nothing at all, in fact. But I’ve taken this meaningless round-number and turned it into a good occasion for personal reflection.
My typical blog is usually pessimistic in nature, using this platform as an opportunity to spew each and every one of my many poker observations and irritations. I’m an irritable guy, what can I say? I’ve thought, however, that a reasonable reader could ask himself himself this question:
Who the hell does this guy think he is?
This is an absolutely fair question. After all, I spend time picking apart the minutiae of everybody else’s table manner and personal characteristics. Why not a little self-examination there, JayMind?
Indeed.
For starters, I’m no fun at the poker table. I’m all business. I sit down, usually put in my earbuds, and get to work. My quiet demeanor works for me, and while I’m at the table, that’s all I’m really worried about: if what I’m doing works for me. Making friends, or even being cordial, has never been a primary or even a least-bit existent goal of mine. I do recognize, however, that if a table were full of people like me, we’d all fall asleep due to boredom.
Also, I’m rude. I do not, let’s say, verbally berate people or tell the dealer how shitty my cards are. My business-at-hand mentality, however, leads me to ignore many inquiries. As you know, I hate when people ask me what my cards were. But a more gentlemanly human-being, when faced with an irritating question, will answer politely: “I’m sorry. I don’t like to share that information.” I simply ignore the person. They’ll be sitting right next to me, staring me in the face, and I don’t answer them, I don’t look at them. Let’s be clear: I still think their question is very poor etiquette. But a more civilized human would answer the inquiry like an adult.
Furthermore, there are many many players who are better at poker than I am. It may seem that because, obviously, I write about poker, I claim to be better at it than everybody else. Not the case. I do consider myself skilled and knowledgeable. But I don’t consider myself anywhere near the best. I enjoy discussing the idiosyncratic details of the game, observing social interaction. That’s where I’m valuable, if you can call that value. Not strategically…
Ultimately, despite my many personal flaws, I’m going to continue ranting and raving about the near meaningless details of the poker social climate. Like, why the hell is that guy sitting next to me always kicking me? Doesn’t he know I’m sitting here too?
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The Running-Bad Mentality
June 20th, 2011
I can only speak for myself, but I know that when I’m in the midst of a particularly bad session, my whole thought-process changes. I try not to let these mental annoyances affect how I play the actual game, but there certainly is a shift in personal confidence.
Take for instance a hand I played today. It was in an 8-16 limit hold’em game, and I was running cold. It seemed to be just one of those days where I couldn’t find traction, no matter what I did. Raising, calling, check-raising and folding all had the same outcome: a loss. So, with perhaps an eighth of my stack still intact, I tried again: I raised pre-flop with Kc-10c. I got called in four spots. The flop was Q-J-3 rainbow. I bet, and got called by two players.
The turn was an Ace, giving me the nuts. I bet again, and the player behind me raised. The third player in the hand folded. Let’s pause here for a moment. I have the stone-cold nuts. I have exactly three big bets left in my stack right now. I’m heads-up against a player who raised me. This is an almost perfect scenario for any player! But here’s how the preceding session-events alter my thought-process from that of a confident, winning player:
Running-well guy:
Action: Re-raise, three-bets
Thought-process: Hell yes! Finally, I can build a pot with the nuts! This guy is donking into me with some two-pair type hand. See you at the river, buddy, where I’ll get some more of your money…
Running-bad guy:
Action: Re-raise, three-bets
Thought-process: Ahh, shit. Well, I have the nuts; I know I’m ahead right now. I kinda’ want him to fold here. I just wanna’ win one pot! Just once, please god! Don’t pair the river!!
You see, the play is exactly the same. Of course you must re-raise; there’s no doubt about that. But when things are going well, you’re thrilled to see all the money going into the pot with the best hand. And this is the absolutely correct way to feel. I should feel the same way when I’m losing! But I don’t! When I’m losing, I’m not thinking about the nice pot I’m about to win; I’m thinking about how I could possibly lose this hand, too! I’d rather just take it down right there, let’s not give this guy a chance to hit whatever crap he needs to hit! I’m scared, you see? It’s been happening to me all day long.
The river, of course, paired the board. It was a Queen. I bet, and he raised me all-in for my last $16. He had Q-J.
The outcome doesn’t necessarily justify my total lack of confidence. But even though you need to play the hand exactly the same way no matter what, sometimes it just isn’t your day, and you know it…
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