Laurel, Hardy & Me

The PokerStars Spring Championship of Online Poker wrapped up yesterday, as did my work helping cover the sucker. As was the case last September with WCOOP, it was again a lot of fun to be scribblin’ alongside and collaboratin’ with a good group of folks. Am glad to have it in the rearview, though, as the frequent late nights (sometimes ’til sunrise) screwed with the sleep schedule a bit more than yr cranky gumshoe would’ve liked (or had necessarily anticipated). Goes with the territory, of course.

Have been so busy with SCOOPing I haven’t had a lot of time to think about this here Vegas trip I have coming up this week. Will say a little more about that tomorrow, which is the day Vera Valmore and I will be flying out. Have a lot of stuff planned, though, including meeting up with various blogger types and others. Like I say, stay tuned.

Wanted to write just a little today about my recent online play. Had built up the online roll a bit and moved to $1/$2 limit hold’em a while back where things were going just swimmingly for three weeks or so. Too swimmingly, really, as my win rate had climbed to a gawdy 6 BB/100 hands or something there for a while before finally settling back down into a more realistic range. Then came a nasty little crash over the last few days which ended yesterday with me doing what I did back in December and just cashing out a big chunk o’ change in disgust.

So I’m back to just a few hundy to play with online, meaning I’ll have to head back down in stakes again in order to manage the bankroll correctly. I might even get away from LHE a bit and explore some other games and tourneys in an effort to try to keep poker fun here in the near term. Try some of that change I was yapping about in my last post.

What happened yesterday was another quick, painful sequence of bad timing, misfortune, and a bit of what Ian Taylor and Matthew Hilger in The Poker Mindset refer to as “passive tilt.” That’s when you react to a bad session by starting to expect the worst (e.g., believing your opponent will always hit that draw), and thus go into “check/call mode when faced with any aggression from your opponents unless you have an extremely strong hand.”

The authors explain how unlike other, more obvious forms of tilt (when you know you’re tilting), passive tilt can often operate somewhere below conscious thought, and thus “can go undetected for a considerable period of time, especially when triggered by simply running badly.” I’m pretty sure this is what I have been dealing with the last few days, and I’m going to point to one moment in particular from yesterday’s session that kind of woke me up to what was going on.

I came to a new table and within a few hands immediately recognized the player on my left to be an especially weak opponent, doing a lot of limping and calling, showing down subpar hands, and being exploited by a couple of other, more tutored players at the table. I ended up getting into at least three hands with this player in which I lost big pots after he hit unlikely draws on the end (e.g., rivering five-outers to make two pair, filling gutshots, etc.). Then, as often happens in this situation, the guy ended up giving it all back very quickly to the rest of the table, went busto, then left.

So my mood wasn’t ideal. There were at least two very good players at the table, and since we were six-handed that meant I probably should’ve just left, too, and found an easier spot. But being down, I was stubborn about it and so stuck around.

That’s when I noticed the guy on my right was three-betting preflop every single time the player two to my left open-raised. I kept picking up winners like 7-4-offsuit, so I was folding out of those hands, of course. But it was getting obvious: the guy on my right for some reason had decided to try to isolate the other player whenever possible.

Finally those two started going at it in the chat box as well, and the gist of their conversation was that each believed the other to be a terrible player. I won’t rehearse the whole debate, other than to say there was a lot of rancor over a two-outer or nine-outer (they couldn’t decide) which one had hit against the other some time earlier. Silly stuff.

Then comes a hand in which I pick up in the cutoff. Player to my right, Laurel, raises. I three-bet. Folds to Hardy in the big blind who cold-calls, and Laurel calls as well. Flop comes a worrisome . Laurel checks, Hardy bets, I raise, and both call. The turn is the , and when both check I overcome my passive-tilty-what-if-I’m-beat fretting and bet. Both call.

The river is the . Passive tilt or not, I ain’t gonna be raising anymore on this one, I don’t think. Laurel checks, Hardy bets, I call, and Laurel check-raises. Ugh. Hardy just calls, though, so I only have to sacrifice one more bet to see this through, which I do.

Laurel shows . A boat on the river. Hardy shows . A straight. Neat. I’ve finished the hand in third place. I don’t bother to figure out what-outer it took to beat me. Neither do they.

Apologies for the bad beat story (or SIGH), but I share it mainly to say that the hand -- along with the two players’ bickering beforehand -- woke me up out of my listless, unprofitable funk and got me to the Cashier’s page. In that hand, from beginning to end, I was essentially overwhelmed by the feeling that there was no way I was gonna win it. Which is no way to operate, fer damn sure.

As was the case in December, cashing out a big chunk had an immediately beneficial effect on my overall mood. Time to regroup once again.

But first, Vegas! More tomorrow on that.

(EDIT [added 11:00 a.m.]: Just happened to notice Barry Tanenbaum posted something yesterday on a related topic, “Passive Play When Tired.”)

The Ever-Present Existential Struggle With Change

Many have noted before how poker is a game that tends to reveal certain aspects of a person’s character. Players play according to so many different styles because, well, people are different. They view the world differently. They view themselves differently. And poker helps to make all those differences much more conspicuous.

A person comes to the table with certain ideas. Meets a group of others, all of whom have their own way of understanding this mortal coil about which we individually wind. They’re all exposed to that chance element -- the cards -- and how they differently respond provides the foundation for the ensuing conflict of ideas. Eventually, each starts to understand how the others look at things, with some picking up on such more quickly than others.

Anthony Holden described the phenomenon in Big Deal (1990) as follows: “Whether he likes it or not, a man’s character is stripped bare at the poker table; if the other players read him better than he does, he has only himself to blame. Unless he is both able and prepared to see himself as others do, flaws and all, he will be a loser in cards, as in life.”

Holden’s line gets quoted a lot, and while the leap from “loser in cards” to loser “in life” probably skips over a few necessary steps, it does nevertheless make a valid point. A big part of one’s success in poker has to do with seeing oneself as clearly and accurately as others do. You can’t win if others understand what you are doing better than you do. Which happens -- to all of us when we first start to play poker, and to most of us even after we’ve been playing for a long while. We get lazy, we stop paying attention to ourselves, we stop paying attention to how others are seeing our “character stripped bare.” And when that happens, we lose. Usually.

Sorry to be so abstract here, but I’m getting to a sort of mini-epiphany I had over the last few days that concerns both my poker playing style and my character, generally speaking.

I am probably best classified as one of those “creatures of habit” types who generally has a hard time changing my routine once I find something that I like or at least is comfortable enough to endure without too much hardship. That’s not to say I am not able to adapt to changes that go on around me, but rather that I myself am less inclined to introduce such changes if not forced to do so.

This character trait gets illustrated in various ways, some relatively trivial, some not. For example, a less important manifestation of my resistance to change might be found in how I choose to negotiate my 25-mile commute to work. I take the same path every day, avoiding the interstate and its high-speed intensities and instead opting for the relatively tranquil state roads where I tool along at 45 per. After several years of construction, a new loop was added to the interstate several months ago that I have heard would cut a few minutes off of my commute, should I take it. But I haven’t even tried it. I’m just not interested.

A more meaningful example of my resistance to change would be that other path -- the career one -- that I chose a long time ago and have similarly stuck to for a good while now.

The poker writing has now become a not insignificant detour from that one for me, taking me to Las Vegas last summer to cover the WSOP, and allowing me to leave that same old, tedious main road for longer and longer stretches. I may well be going back to the WSOP this summer, and am starting to think more and more about whether or not I even want to return to the main road. Not quite ready to make that decision, but Vera and I have been talking more and more about the possibility of my doing so.

My resistance to change manifests itself in my poker playing, too -- to my detriment, I’m afraid. For one, I tend to pick one game and stick to it in an almost obsessive (or superstitious) way, even though I know switching up would likely keep my poker instincts sharper in all games. I also tend to have a hard time moving around stakes-wise, especially if I’m extracting a modest win rate wherever I happen to be. Kind of limits my ever seeing what exactly I’m capable of doing, poker-wise.

The most harmful effect of resisting change at the poker table, though, is that others can “see” you much more quickly and clearly than they can otherwise. And, making matters worse, you tend not to pay attention to yourself, either. It’s easy in any game to turn predictable and make your patterns of raises, continuation bets, checks, and folds become blatantly apparent to others. Gotta be ready and willing to change it up, and often, since doing so increases your own understanding of yourself, and tends to decrease others’ understanding. And when that happens, you win. Usually.

Anyhow, one thing ain’t gonna change, and that is I’ll keep you updated here on all of the changes.

Follow You, Follow Me

Mentioned a couple of weeks ago how that Twitter thing had stealthily crept onto my radar. Was sitting there in the back of my mind last night as I read Otis opining about it. Otis is smart.

Then I decided, sure, why not. So I got me an account: @hardboiledpoker. “Shamus” was taken, and “Short-Stacked Shamus” too many characters, apparently.

I’m starting to think I myself am too many characters.

Has been an especially busy time over the last few weeks balancing the pokery stuff -- a little bit of playing, a lot of writing, and a lot more writing -- with everything else. By which I mean the “real” life which continues apace, that non-pokery stuff which includes a full-time job. The noggin’ is getting crowded.

One other thing squeezing its way into my ever-addled cranium is the fact that Vera Valmore and I will be making a quick trip to Vegas next week, during which time I’m hoping to connect with a number of folks. The World Poker Tour Championship -- the Five Star World Poker Classic -- is cranking up at the end of next week at the Bellagio, too, and so I imagine I’ll probably head over there some to see what I can see.

While there I am hoping to attend a meeting of one of those Wednesday Poker Discussion Groups over at Binion’s Horseshoe and Casino next week. If you’ve read any of Dr. Al Schoonmaker’s books (or listened to his old podcast), you remember he talks about the WPDG from time to time. I think it would be neat to sit in on one of the meetings and see what folks are discussing.

This Vegas trip, which will only last for a few days, of course brings to mind the last one, which lasted a couple of months. Still unsure about whether or not I’ll be back out in Vegas this summer to cover the WSOP, although it could happen. Everyone is still in the planning stages as far as media goes, I think, and so there are a lot of people who still don’t know for sure what exactly they’ll be doing come the end of May.

I’ve written before here about how positive the experience was for me last summer helping cover the WSOP for PokerNews. During those last days in mid-July, my sense was it was definitely something I could stand to do again. So we’ll see. I’ll definitely let you know here what I end up doing. Heck, I might even send out a tweet about it.

Between now and then are more SCOOP recaps for the PokerStars blog. That continues through next Monday (April 13), when we’ll be live blogging Day 2 of the big no-limit hold’em Main Event. I’ll be helping with the “high” stakes version of that one, the $10,000+$300 event.

Wonder how many will come out for that, actually. The WCOOP Main Event last September was a $5,000+$200 buy-in, and attracted 2,185 entrants. So perhaps 1,200 for this one? Maybe a few more?

Some of these SCOOP recaps have meant late nights for yr humble gumshoe, although I think overall I’ve gotten a lucky draw compared to some of my colleagues. Haven’t had to stay up past 2 or 3 a.m., which has been good considering I generally have to get up early.

Am also hoping to post another episode of the Hard-Boiled Poker Radio Show very soon, perhaps this weekend. I think I might should just call it a monthly show so as not to tease folks into thinking I can manage it more frequently. April 1 was actually the one-year anniversary of the show, during which time 14 episodes were produced. So, yeah, it’s a monthly.

Okay, am ready to post. Do I send a “tweet” saying I have posted something? Do people do that? I think I won’t. If you wanna read, you’ll read. (And as always, thanks for doing so!)

Many months ago, Michele Lewis had invited me to follow her on Twitter, but since I didn’t have an account I didn’t. I added her soon after creating my account. And yes, today’s post title was written with Michele in mind. (Explanation here.)

Have a good weekend, all.

Bonomo Ban No Mo’

Last summer I had the chance to help cover the World Series of Poker for PokerNews, and the first final table I live blogged was a good one -- Event No. 4, the $5,000 Mixed No-Limit/Limit Hold’em event won by Erick Lindgren. The table went nearly 200 hands, the last 40 or so were heads up between Lindgren and Justin “ZeeJustin” Bonomo.

Was looking back at the blog, where Tropical Steve and I alternated reporting hands. Bonomo had the chip lead once it got to heads up (about 3-to-2), and at the time it looked a lot like he would probably take it down. Really, for most of the night it seemed as though Bonomo was the one in charge. Which was saying something, given who else was at that final table: David Williams, Howard Lederer, Isaac Haxton, Roland de Wolfe, David Rheem, Andrew Robl, and Pat Pezzin.

This was a televised FT, and when it was all over Lindgren was interviewed by Norman Chad. Those interviews generally end up going on for six or eight questions or so, from which ESPN chops out the little ten-second clip that gets tacked on to the end of the broadcast. In the blog I reported some from that interview, including relating how Lindgren noted that once he’d gotten the lead on Bonomo he remained worried his opponent might still come back on him, right up until the last river card was dealt.

I remember Lindgren also in there somewhere saying some nice things about his opponent, and stating very confidently that Bonomo was going to be winning multiple bracelets himself in the future. I think everyone there watching that final table was thoroughly convinced -- if they weren’t already -- that Bonomo was indeed a hell of a player.

Amid the buzz this week is the fact that Bonomo has been allowed back on PokerStars after being banned from the site for over three years (since February 2006) for having been caught entering tournaments multiple times with different accounts. This was shortly after Bonomo had been caught doing something similar over on PartyPoker, from which site he was banned as well.

Bonomo turned 21 later that year, and soon began tearing up the live tourney poker scene. He barely missed a WPT final table that December, finishing seventh at the Five Diamond World Poker Classic (the one Joe Hachem won). He made a final table at the 2007 WSOP in a NLHE event, where he also made a deep run in the $50K H.O.R.S.E. event, finishing 18th, just a couple of spots away from the money. He has already tripped up to over $1.5 million in tourney winnings. All of which further establishes Bonomo’s poker prowess.

If you’ve heard Bonomo interviewed on any of the podcasts or on his own show, All Strategy (which now may well be on a permanent hiatus), you know he’s articulate, too, and has a gift (I think) for communicating poker-related concepts. And he’s also obviously remorseful for what he did, never shying from questions about the cheating and accepting full responsibility (unlike some others have done). At least that has been the case every time I’ve heard him talk about the issue.

That being said, I guess I’m still scratching my head as to why PokerStars would make this decision to allow “ZeeJustin” back on the site. I’m not saying I don’t think Bonomo understands the gravity of his transgressions, and in fact I do believe that besides being a great player, he has a lot to contribute to the poker community as well. In fact, my wondering has nothing much to do with Bonomo at all -- I agree with the notion that his is something of a special case and therefore probably deserves to be considered differently than others.

I guess I just don’t quite see what exactly PokerStars has to gain here.

One PokerStars customer wrote the site to complain about the unbanning of Bonomo, and received a reply that pointed out how Bonomo had “accepted the consequences of his actions” and as far as PokerStars knew never “tried to circumvent his suspension.” The support person additionally notes how Bonomo has not only “expressed regret for his actions” but “has even become a crusader for fair play” since his banning.

A poll over on PocketFives currently has about 64% of respondents saying they agree with the decision to let Bonomo back on the site, with 36% saying it was not a “good move” by Stars to do so. On the TwoPlusTwo PokerCast this week, the hosts mentioned the thread on that forum discussing the matter, and estimated there, too, the split was about 60-40 in favor of the decision.

I suppose my instinctive response is negative, as I don’t like the idea of letting others believe there exists a (legit) avenue back onto an online site after one has been caught cheating in such a flagrant manner. (That’s ignoring the particulars of Bonomo’s case, I know.) I suppose it would be helpful if somehow Stars additionally provided a way for Bonomo to continue being “a crusader for fair play,” although I’m not sure exactly how that sort of “community service” could be done.

Thinking back to the respect Lindgren expressed for Bonomo after that WSOP final table, I think it’s pretty clear E-dog wouldn’t have been so generous about his opponent if Bonomo had been previously caught cheating in a live setting.

But he wasn’t. More evidence in support of the thesis that everything is different online.

Poker Book Review: Tri Nguyen's The Pot Limit Omaha Book: Transitioning from NLHE to PLO

Some of you may recall a post I wrote back in December titled “This Book Might Be Out of Your Range.” In that one I passed along some news regarding a new eBook on no-limit hold’em strategy authored by Cole “CTS” South and Tri “SlowHabit” Nguyen titled Let There Be Range.

I’d heard about it on a podcast, then looked into it a little further, mainly intrigued by the book’s prodigious price tag -- $1,850. I had a little bit of fun in that post regarding the book’s cost, and I concluded with a jokey comment about how the authors could send me a review copy.

I ended up getting a bit of feedback on that one, including eventually hearing from Tri Nguyen who sent me a nice note saying he liked the post. A couple of weeks ago Nguyen got back in touch to let me know he had a new book coming out on pot-limit Omaha, and in fact wanted to know if I’d be interested in reading it and perhaps writing a little something about it. I told him I suspected I might not be squarely within his target audience, but I’d be glad to do so.

If you don’t know Tri Nguyen, he’s been a highly accomplished online player for some time now. He also made a fairly deep run in last summer’s WSOP Main Event (finishing 103rd). There’s a short interview with Nguyen in the latest Card Player magazine (Vol. 22, No. 7 -- the one with Huck Seed on the cover) where one can learn a little bit more about his background going to Berkeley and earning a degree in computer science, then his getting into poker and rapidly moving up stakes.

Nguyen tells me the new book targets PLO50 to PLO600 players, primarily short-handed, with a special focus on trying to help the no-limit hold’em player looking to move over to PLO. The title is The Pot Limit Omaha Book: Transitioning from NLH to PLO, and it is due to be released on April 30th. The price tag on this one is going to be $375, with the preorder price being $275. One can find out more about the book and ordering info over at the Daily Variance website.

On the one hand, I’m not that well-suited to review the book, given that I don’t exactly resemble the player profile of the reader Nguyen has in mind for it. I have played quite a bit of PLO50, but am hardly part of the crowd Nguyen is really addressing, both because of the size of my bankroll and because I’m not really one of those NLHE players looking to make a transition to PLO. On the other hand, I have read quite a few pot-limit Omaha books and have written my share of book reviews, and so can probably say at least a little something worthwhile about Nguyen’s book.

The book is relatively short, but packs a good amount of material in its pages, avoiding the usual filler one often finds in longer poker strategy texts. I’ll be honest -- I wasn’t too crazy about reading it on the computer screen, as I’m one of those who likes to mark up books as I read, especially if I’m going to be reviewing them. (The security software attached to the book prevents printing.) But it wasn’t too arduous to get through that way.

After an introductory section, the book starts with a chapter covering preflop play that discusses starting hands and the games people play before the flop with regard to raising, 3- and 4-betting, and so forth. There’s some good advice here about the assumptions many players have about the significance of preflop raising, as well as a couple of points about the equity of certain starting hand matchups I hadn’t necessarily realized before. There are also some graphs illustrating certain observations that I’ll admit to having passed over since such things tend to hurt my brain.

The next three chapters cover various concepts and common situations one encounters in PLO. While some of what’s covered here I’ve seen discussed elsewhere, there are some ideas and explanations that were new to me. A theme that emerges here is the difference between NLHE and PLO, and one of the things I liked most about the book was the way Nguyen frequently uses analogies from NLHE to explain what’s going on in a given PLO situation. For instance, when explaining the ways a starting hand like Q-T-4-5 can get one into trouble in PLO, Nguyen refers to how A-9-offsuit plays in NLHE to make the point clearer. This frequently employed strategy is handy, I think, and is something that might distinguish his book a bit from other PLO texts.

Subsequent chapters cover flop, turn, and river play, and are filled with a large number of sample hands that apply some of those concepts discussed earlier while introducing new ideas, too. It was during this part of the book that I most consciously felt that I might not be part of the target audience. It’s hard to explain, exactly, but has to do mainly with the way Nguyen talks about hands, which I know would make perfect sense to a certain group of NLHE players but was different from the way I would think and talk about hands. (Am I making sense?)

The overall organization of the book could be better, I think, but in the end one comes away with a fairly coherent approach to PLO that I do think will prove useful to Nguyen’s target audience. Is it worth $375? Hey, my name is “Short-Stacked.” How can I respond to that? I’ll just answer that question as any existentialist would and say it’s up to you.

On a personal note, Nguyen and I ended up exchanging a few emails regarding the book and he struck me as a very friendly, smart dude who genuinely has something to contribute to our pokery knowledge. And I much appreciate his good humor regarding my earlier post, as well as his invitation for me to read the new book.

As I say, if you are interested, check out Nguyen’s site, Daily Variance, for more on the book.

(EDIT [added 5/26/09]: If you are interested in reading more about the book, check out this review from a reader better-equipped than I to judge the book, Foucault.)

Nice Finish

Lots of great comments on yesterday’s post (“The Waiting Game”). Check ’em out if you haven’t seen ’em. I like how the discussion evolved into a consideration of “The Waiting Metagame.” Also like B.J. Nemeth’s basketball analogies, which make sense to me.

Speaking of, I’ll have to talk a little basketball this morning, being a Tar Heels fan and all. I spent a number of years in Chapel Hill, including many days sitting in classrooms and nights going to games at the Dean Dome. So yeah, you could say I was fairly interested in seeing how things went last night in the big one.

I barely remember the 1977 final versus Marquette. Phil Ford, Mike O’Koren, and Walter “Sweet D” Davis (with his fingers taped together). Had whipped UNLV in the semis, but couldn’t overcome the emotional tidal wave created by it being Al McGuire’s farewell game as a coach for the Warriors. (Remember when teams had nicknames like Warriors?) Oh, and Butch Lee and Bo Ellis had something to do with it, too.

My memory of the 1981 final versus Indiana is a bit clearer. That was the one played in the Spectrum in Philadelphia on the day President Ronald Reagan was shot. Kind of a weird vibe all around for that one, with the Heels turning in a stinker while Isiah Thomas took it to the hoop against them over and over again.

The 1982 final -- with Michael Jordan, Sam Perkins, Matt Doherty, Jimmy Black, and Big Game James Worthy -- is much more vivid. Indeed, I’ve seen that one a few times over the years, marvelling over and again at how different the game was with no shot clock or three pointers. And at Freddie Brown’s pass.

I was in Chapel Hill in 1993, and after the game went to Franklin Street along with everyone else. Blue paint everywhere, bonfires, trees being uprooted. Everybody making the “time out” sign, mimicking Webber’s endgame miscue. Donald Williams had such a sweet shot. That was a team of overachievers, for sure, with George Lynch ably leading ’em.

Was full of anxiety in 2005 when Raymond Felton, Rashad McCants, Sean May, and the rest let Illinois come all of the way back in the second half from 15 down to tie the sucker. But Felton hit those free throws at the end and all was well.

Have to say I had a brief flashback to that near collapse last night, but somehow knew everything was going to be just fine. UNC had too much of a chip advantage, see. (We can get back to poker now, turning B.J.’s analogy the other way around.) A blue chip advantage, so to speak. And they used their advantage well, applying pressure from the get-go. By the second half, Michigan State was in a spot where they could double up several times but still would need a miracle.

Best case scenario for us Heels fans, really. A game where there wasn’t even any need for the endgame fouling to extend the game to which B.J. alludes.

GG, Heels!

(EDIT [added 4/7/09]: Dr. Pauly, whom I believe might have won a penny or three from betting on this here UNC victory, alerted me to this nifty time lapse vid of the scene at Franklin Street Monday night. Couldn’t figure how to embed here, but click through if yr curious. Reminds me of 1993, when I was there.)

The Waiting Game

Was watching PokerStars’ Spring Championship of Online Poker last night, one of those H.O.R.S.E. events (the $1,000+$50 buy-in one) in which TeamPokerStars pro Daniel “KidPoker” Negreanu had made it down to the cash bubble with a relatively short stack. They weren’t quite at hand-for-hand play yet when a player at Negreanu’s table with an even shorter stack began stalling every hand. And with the extra-long time banks given to players for the SCOOP events, some of the others at the table were beginning to get antsy.

A couple of comments were made, then, after a while, Negreanu couldn’t resist chiming in as well. “i wish we could bar guys that do that for life,” he said, referring to what the staller was doing explicitly as “cheating.” He suggested a possible penalty: “put something in the security software for repeat offenders. they keep stalling, they get dealt out for a level.”

The staller defended his actions, pointing out that it was within the rules for him to take as long as he was allowed. Negreanu wasn’t hearing it. “guys like this in the old days would totally get a beat down, for real,” he continued. “and if I have anything to do [with] it i’d like to give penalties to guys who shoot that angle.”

Since there was a lot of time with nothing else to do, the conversation continued with several players joining in, as did a couple of railbirds. Negreanu noted how “only low lifes” stalled and that “today so many younger kids dont get that its wrong so its a real problem.” Eventually the bubble finally did burst, and afterwards the player who had been stalling said he was sorry, though continued to maintain it was within his rights to stall.

“ya why say sorry?” typed Negreanu. “you are NOT sorry. You do it, and will do it again.”

The debate went on a little while longer before Negreanu decided he’d had enough, saying “this will tilt me for real” if he were to continue the discussion. A few more points were thrown around, then a railbird suggested the player in question “is going to be part of a Daniel blog.” Will have to keep an eye out for that.

After several minutes, the bubble finally burst, with both the staller and Negreanu having made the money. In fact -- speaking of cheating -- Justin “ZeeJustin” Bonomo, Negreanu’s All Strategy co-host who has recently been allowed back on the site after being banned for over three years for multi-accounting, was the bubble boy, going out in 65th.

As it happened, Negreanu would end up busting the player who had been stalling, but it was basically just happenstance that caused it. Both still had similarly small stacks, and they got heads up in a stud hand in which the staller was all in on third street with a pair of split kings to Negreanu’s three-flush. Negreanu drew out his flush, and the other fellow was out in 49th. Negreanu would last a little while longer before finally going out in 37th.

I found the whole exchange interesting to follow for a few reasons. One was just the spectacle of seeing Negreanu become so animated. Was perhaps a little untoward of him as a PokerStars representative to be getting into it with another player like that, but with Phil Hellmuth setting the standard for conduct with his poorly-typed screeds over on UltimateBet I think it is probably acceptable to allow KidPoker to blow off a little steam like this once in a while.

His comments suggesting possible changes in the rules (and implying his own potential influence for helping such changes to occur) were intriguing, too. My instinctive response was to side with the staller, frankly, and not to pay much heed to Negreanu’s claim that stalling was “cheating.” Nor was I all that moved by the talk of the “old days” and so forth, although I do appreciate how the generations tend to differ over what is acceptable and what is not.

What do you think? That such a tactic is squarely within the current rules seems to make the debate mostly moot, unless someone wants to make it a matter of “etiquette” or “courtesy” or whatever.

But what about Negreanu’s suggestion about changing the rules? Should they? Could they?

When You’ve Begun to Think Like a Gun

Been listening to these old John Cale albums over the last week or two. I’ll pull ’em out every couple of years. Not as good or interesting as the two Velvet Underground LPs on which Cale appeared (the one with Nico & White Light/White Heat), but full of surprises and cool moments, nonetheless. (I’m referring to the half dozen or so records Cale made during the early 1970s.)

One reason why I don’t wholeheartedly embrace Cale’s music is the fact that his lyrics -- while often suggestive -- are usually just a bit too opaque to produce any real response (in me, anyway). An exception is the song “Gun” from which my post title comes.

“Gun” is a rocker, with a driving, head-bobbin’ rhythm. As the title suggests, the song has a “hard-boiled” theme, told from the perspective of a ne’er-do-well criminal -- probably a hit man -- capable of all sorts of horrors who is reflecting on his trade. Can’t really say the story of “Gun” makes a lot of sense on a literal level, but it does a good job evoking the cool, cocky, morally-depraved atmosphere of a pulpy potboiler.

And the chorus delivers the message in a relatively point blank fashion (pun intended): “When you’ve begun to think like a gun, / The rest of the year has already gone. / When you’ve begun to think like a gun, / The days of the year have suddenly gone.”

Not to get overly academic about it, but I’ve always interpreted those lines as suggesting something about the speaker’s wholehearted commitment to executing the task before him -- his ability to forget everything and think of himself as a weapon, a tool designed to destroy. And when that happens, all that matters is now.

Lots of poker writers use similar language to describe effective, aggressive play, with Doyle Brunson’s chapter on no-limit hold’em in Super/System (first published in 1979) being the model for such “think like a gun”-style talk.

That chapter begins with Texas Dolly criticizing timid players who “ante themselves to death” or are “gutless” or don’t have the “courage” or “heart” or “muscle” for the game. “They’re weak,” says Brunson. “So you keep whamming on ’em and whamming on ’em and you just wear ‘em down. And, sooner or later, you’ll win all their money.” When he gets into specific strategy tips, he tends not to recommend fancy check-raises or slowplaying, favoring fast play and riding rushes. As Al Alvarez summarizes Brunson's advice in The Biggest Game in Town (1983): “the message is clear: aggression, aggression, aggression.”

Alvarez's book is also where we find that neat, metaphorical description of the difference between limit poker and no-limit poker from Crandall Addington that also evokes the idea of the player being a gun. Says Addington, “In limit, you are shooting at a target. In no-limit, the target comes alive and starts shooting back at you.”

The differences between limit and no-limit are huge, to be sure. But really, well-applied aggression can prove highly profitable in either game. In LHE, one sometimes encounters -- especially at the six-handed tables -- an aggressive, crafty player dominating the action. He’s the guy everyone is watching and reacting to. Sometimes I’m that guy; sometimes I’m one of the onlookers.

Sort of like he’s the one constantly waving a weapon around, putting everyone else on edge. Or who is the weapon. And you never know when he’s gonna fire that sucker again.

Other writers talk about using one’s “weapons” at the poker table. In The Poker Tournament Formula (2006), Arnold Snyder talks about how “the first step to victory in no-limit hold’em tournaments is knowing the three distinct weapons you will have at your disposal,” namely, your cards, your chips, and your position. Of course, you have to have the “heart” to use those weapons when necessary. One could refer to cards, chips, and position as your ammunition -- as bullets -- and you’re the gun firing them. Or not, in which case you get anted to death like Broomcorn’s uncle (as Brunson would say).

Nat Arem had a smart post yesterday in which he listed various qualities possessed by successful poker players, among which he included the “ability to view money as a tool.” Arem does a good job explaining that he’s not saying one needs to devalue money entirely, just value it appropriately -- “as a tool to make more money.” “Don’t even bother playing poker for serious money,” he says, “until you can mentally disconnect yourself from poker bankroll equaling spendable money.”

Indeed, the whole idea of a “bankroll” is informed by this concept -- that the money with which you play is a tool, a means. Or, ammunition. And you’re the gun. And the idea is to collect more ammo so you can keep firing.

Interestingly enough, the song “Gun” appears on Cale’s album Fear (1974), where it could be said to offer an antithetical view to the record’s opening track “Fear is a Man’s Best Friend.” Siouxsie & the Banshees did an especially good cover of it for their Through the Looking Glass (1987). Was poking around YouTube and saw an acoustic version featuring Cale and Siouxsie Sioux, which is pretty cool.

Had also seen a clip of the original smokin’ Cale tune on YouTube, but it appears to have been taken down. Check it out, if you can find it.

Triple SCOOPs: Spring Championship of Online Poker Begins Today on PokerStars

SCOOP is here, peoples.

PokerStars has been staging its World Championship of Online Poker for seven years now. The site first launched in September 2001 -- gawd, could that be true? -- and the first WCOOP, a series of nine events, took place in July 2002. The “big one” that year was a $1,000+$50 no-limit hold’em tourney that attracted 238 entrants.

The series has gotten bigger and bigger each year, with last September’s WCOOP involving 33 events, culminating with the two-day, $5,000+$200 buy-in Main Event that attracted 2,185 players, creating a prize pool of over $10 million.

Shortly after last fall’s series, Stars decided they were going to run a spring series this time, too -- the Spring Championship of Online Poker -- which finally begins today. There will be 22 events over the next 11 days, with all 22 featuring “low,” “medium,” and “high” stakes versions of the tournaments that will run simultaneously.

For example, this afternoon things kick off at 2:30 p.m. Eastern time with Event No. 1, the Short-Handed No-Limit Hold’em with Rebuys event. The “low” version of the tourney has a $5.00+$0.50 buy-in (with $5 for rebuys & the add-on). The “medium” version is $50+$5. And the “high” version $500+$30. The three versions of Event No. 2, a pot-limit O/8 event, starts at 4:30 p.m. ET.

Oh, and get this: as an indication of how much the series has grown, all but one of the “high” stakes versions of the 22 events have buy-ins of at least $1,000+$50 (i.e., what it cost to enter the Main Event way back in 2002). Just Event No. 1 -- which is a rebuy event -- has a lower buy-in.

Last night I saw there were almost 16,000 entered into the “low” version of Event No. 1, suggesting this here little twist has proven pretty popular already. It’s a terrific idea, I think, to try to get us small timers involved. Speaking of, when I was looking at the tourney page last night I happened to notice the various satellites running for the sucker, and just for grins I jumped into one of the 35 FPP ones which awarded a single seat.

I think I might’ve played exactly one tournament all year, actually, one of those multi-table thingies for Silver Stars. So I have to admit my tourney instincts are pretty raw at the moment. I sat tight for most of the early stages of the single-table turbo, watching others give their chips to the only guy at the table who appeared willing to show any aggression at all. Was also vaguely distracted for a short while by American Idol, specifically when that Lady GaGa came on to do her big hit “Poker Face” which I felt obligated to watch for obvious reasons. (Don’t ask me what the hell that’s all about.)

Anyhow, I did win a couple of smallish pots here and there, meaning I had around 1,500 or so once we reached four-handed. That made me the short stack, but a fortuitious hand came up in which I was dealt , ended up all in preflop against two others, and a couple of aces happily rolled out to triple me up (they had K-Q and Q-J).

Soon enough I was heads up against the aggro guy, with him having around a 2-to-1 chip advantage. I started returning fire, and after he’d folded to a couple of my reraises I’d grabbed the lead. Ended up pushing with Q-10, he called me with J-9, my hand held up, and I won the seat.

Then I remembered I can’t make the start of the tourney this afternoon, so I unregistered. Looking over the rest of the schedule, I might try to win some more W$ and jump into a different SCOOP event later on. Or just play another one for a small discount.

There are lots of ways to satellite in. Or buy your way in with FPPs, too. Click here to see the full schedule and maybe pick yrself a spot to play along. And if somehow you have read all this and haven’t downloaded PokerStars and gotten an account, you can click here to take care of that.

I’ll be helping some with the coverage of SCOOP over on the recently revamped PokerStars blog, joining my buds Otis, Spaceman, F-Train, Change100, Tuscaloosa Johnny, Drizztdj, and California Jen. (I think that’s everyone.) So if you do decide to play, I might be watching.

That’s another cool side to SCOOP -- make a final table and get famous!

Scoring Dream Team Poker

Like you, I followed online some of that “Dream Team Poker” tournament that happened last weekend at Caesars Palace. Partly because of the novelty of the sucker, partly because I actually had a few friends playing in it. Found myself checking in here and there between the basketball games on Saturday and Sunday to see how it was playing out and who was surviving.

For those who aren’t aware, the tournament was run like a regular poker tournament, but all entrants were both playing for themselves and as part of three-player “teams.” The entry fee was $500+$50 per person (so $1,500+$150 per team). Sixty percent of the prize pool went to the top seven teams, while the other 40% was divided among the top 25 individual players. The team score was determined by taking the top two finishers’ placement in the tourney, turning that into a number (e.g., finishing 13th place = 13 pts.), and the team with the lowest score won.

The buzz surrounding the event was quite positive. Surprisingly so. There were a total of 444 players there (148 teams), with a lot of “name” pros, celebrities, and familiar faces among the field. And just about everyone seems to have loved it, at least as far the commentaries on forums, blogs, and the podcasts go.

F-Train was scratching his head earlier in the week trying to figure out why exactly the event was such a hit. It sounds like both from his post and the comments that the event’s organizers helped their cause a bit by inviting a number of folks (some pros, some media) to play, and perhaps even providing some exemptions, too. Which is fine, though one wonders how popular the event would have been otherwise.

While I suppose I’m mostly ambivalent about the concept of team poker (sure, why not?), I did have a few more concrete responses to the event.

For one, I enjoyed hearing the participants and others getting excited about the tournament. Sounded like a hell of a good time, for most of ’em, anyway. As a fan of poker, I liked hearing people expressing such enthusiasm about the game. Poker can be a lot of fun, and it seems like the Dream Team idea -- perhaps in the way it sort of combined regular tourney poker and the “home game” -- did well to remind everybody of that fact.

Secondly, I’ve also liked how the tournament has inspired all sorts of thoughtful reflections about poker and its significance. If you’ve been listening to the podcasts this week or reading a few of the players’ blogs, you’ve heard various opinions about how poker can be an isolated activity, and how the tournament’s team concept made things different for a weekend. There have been other, interesting points made that were inspired by Dream Team Poker, too.

Finally, I have to throw out a comment about the scoring used in the event. F-Train called it “gimmicky,” which it was. It was also completely absurd, if you think about it at all.

Throwing out the lowest finishing team member’s score seems kind of arbitrary, but that isn’t the biggest problem with the scoring. The way it was done, the player finishing first received one point, second place got two points, and so forth all of the way down. Such a system therefore dictates that the difference between finishing first and second is equivalent to the difference between finishing 23rd and 24th, or 187th and 188th, etc.

Ridiculous. Has there ever been a tournament whose payout schedule followed a similar format? No. Why? Because to do so would be silly. Most tournaments’ payouts are determined so as to emphasize the importance of going deep and winning, awarding most of the prize money to those lasting the longest.

A better point system would also follow such a model. I would suggest deciding on a number of points for the tournament -- say, in this case, with 444 players, something like 4,440 points -- then create a “payout” structure for points that resembled a cash payout structure, only in this case have everyone “cash” for at least a point. You could give those finishing in the bottom half (223rd through 444th) one point each, the next 25% two points each, and so on. Then at the top give the first place finisher 10% of the points, second place 5%, and so on so as to make it more meaningful to go deep.

However it’s done, you have to set it up so that the difference between finishing 89th and 90th is relatively meaningless, while the difference between finishing first or second is the most meaningful jump in the tournament. That way you don’t muck with how the tournament is normally played, especially since the majority of the prize money was reserved for the teams.

Certainly sounds like they’ll try something like this again, probably fairly soon. Hopefully they’ll fix that point system moving forward.

(EDIT [added 4/2/09]: Check out the comments for a couple of smart refutations of this here idea, including a report on other aspects of the event from WPT tourney reporter B.J. Nemeth.)