JV'S KILLER POKER:
PASS!

BY: John Vorhaus

Do you ever not play poker? Do you ever put on your hat and coat to go play, but then go and change your mind? Maybe you even get down the driveway. Maybe you get halfway to the freeway, when suddenly, confronted by the prospect of enduring an hour in traffic just for the enjoyment of playing poker - an enjoyment you don't even feel that much like enjoying right now - you just put the brakes on the whole proposition and head back home. If you do, you're in tune with the little tiny voice inside you that says, "Pass!" Pass! It's a good voice to listen to.

You were up a little late last night. Maybe had a drink or two. Didn't get a good night's sleep. Don't feel 100%. Pass!

Still getting over a cold, as that wad of kleenex in your pocket attests? Pass! Spewing aerosol mayhem over all your fellow players does no one any favors.

You got killed the last time you played, and now you're bent on revenge against the world. Look at you! You're playing angry and you haven't even started playing yet. Pass!

Your spouse doesn't think you play too much poker, but you think s/he thinks you do. So maybe a little quality time... Pass!

Got other work to do? Pass! Don't feel sharp? Pass! Just had a big meal? Pass! Forcing a short session? Pass! Just don't have the bucks? Pass!

What makes you take a pass on poker? Write it down. No, seriously, write it down. Make a list. It's useful information.

Or do you never pass? Do you go play poker no matter what physical or mental or financial shape you're in? Then there's a big fat hole in your game (and thus your pocket) and you'd better fix it fast. Knowing when not to play poker is crucial. Pundits talk table selection, but sometimes the best table of all is (d) none of the above. When your frame of body or frame of mind denies you the possibility of playing your best, you must not play!

But you play anyway. You quash the little tiny voice inside that says pass, and therefore enter the card room under falsest of pretexts: Even though I don't really feel like playing, well, I feel like I can still play well. Probably I'll just play for a short spell and then go home.

Go home broke, that is.

Well, what made you go play in the first place? What drive or desire overrode your own clear intention not to play poker? God knows there's plenty of possible reasons to play poker. Ever used one of these?

I'm a professional, I've got to put in my hours (or) I've been working hard, I deserve a treat (or) I could use some extra cash in my pocket (or) I think my luck is turning (or) I'm bored (or) I've got nothing better to do (or) It's convenient (or) The spouse is out of town (or) It's a holiday (or payday or graveyard shift) and I just can't pass up all that loose money.

What reasons do you give yourself to go? Write those down. No, seriously, I mean it. Write down why you play. We know that Killer Poker requires honesty, but guess what? It also requires work. Oh, oh, sorry - you don't want to work on your game? Then thanks, I'll take your money now.

Anyway, the fact is (warning: extremely convoluted syntax ahead) you don't not work on your game because you're lazy, you don't work on your game because you're scared.

Scared to confront yourself.

That's the real hard work: If you write it down, you own it. You can easily ignore a voice that says, "Pass!" It's harder to deny what you commit to the page. Okay, that's okay. That's just taking responsibility for your poker, and if you hate that, then why do you play in the first place?

To make money. To have fun. For companionship. The challenge.

Or what else? What else? If you're going to play poker, the least you can do is know why. Really know why. Don't tell me you've already thought about it, because you haven't, not deeply and meaningfully, not until you've also written it down.

I'm not talking about purple prose you could print somewhere (tho' lordy, look what they let me get away with here.) Just simple recording of the facts inside your head. Honesty that helps you get a grip on your game. That shouldn't be so tough. Here, I'll show you how:

Sometimes I play for the rush. Dragging big pots is big fun. So is the sense of dominance that comes with winning poker. I seek the moment when I know - just know - that no one at the table can touch me.

Why am I doing your work for you? Write it down! Or don't come calling yourself serious, 'cause you're not.

Oh, man, JV, do I have to write it down? Can't I just think about it in the car?

Yeah, okay, you can do that. But is the radio on? Are you listening to a baseball game? Talking on your cell phone? You can't devote just part of your brain to poker. You have to devote all of it, or the job does not get done.

Marvelously, taking notes on your poker is guaranteed to focus your thinking. Again, I'm not talking novels, just simple observations about who you are and how you are when you play. For example:

At my best, I am super aggressive, and super tuned in. The patterns of others' bets speak to me, and my best, strongest game responds.

At my worst, I call too much, and call down players who I devoutly believe are bluffing but who I know, in my heart of hearts, are not.

I frequently discount position, counting on my playing ability (or native intelligence or boyish good looks) to overcome that disadvantage.

Here's your homework: Take notes on your play. Don't come back to class till you have. And don't forget to pass from time to time, for sometimes the poker you don't play is the most profitably Killer Poker of all.

(John Vorhaus is author of the KILLER POKER series and News Ambassador for UltimateBet.com.)