I found myself in the unenviable position of handling an upset this week. It’s something I do regularly with clients, but this time the tables were turned and the upset I was handling, was with myself.This past week I played the $300 NL-rebuy event. It was a true rebuy as the field was loose and wild. Rebuys were flying around the room like parakeets. I had gotten to the tournament 15 mins. early, or so I thought, but turns out I misread the start time and I was more like 75 mins. early. I was easy going and accepted my new reality and sat on a nearby couch to read a poker magazine.
The time passed quickly and when I got to my table I was pleasantly surprised to find a great table draw. It had a few players that I knew didn’t play well along with some others that played well but oftentimes didn’t, for one reason or another. And with this being a rebuy event, it would give them the perfect excuse to loosen up and gamble. Sure enough, many of them started off getting their chips in the middle with the worst of it.
With the initial rebuy, which everyone at my table did, the starting stack was 24k in chips. I was up to about 30k rather quickly, smooth sailing and no sign of trouble ahead.
Like dark skies on the horizon of a sea, however, trouble appeared rather quickly in the form of a floor man named Kevin. Kevin comes over and quite unceremoniously removes two players from our table. “I have to move you guys to another table,” he says. Seems innocent enough, except he was taking the action players! Something that was going to make my journey to the winner’s circle a lot more difficult. I wasn’t going to have it. Suddenly my mood switched from being contented to being upset.
“Why is this guy taking the fish out of my basket?” I thought. I used different terms to protest to a few of my other table opponents who didn’t seem the least disturbed by this recent development. And why should they? It’s all part of the game, right?
The very next hand someone new was in the seat. A “young-gun” who was a much tougher player then the one who left. “This is silly! I don’t understand why they do that, move one player only to put in a different one in his place.” I exclaim.
I called the tournament director over and proceeded to ask him about their table balancing procedures. I whined; “Why are you taking multiple players from our table? Is there an order in which tables you draw the players from?” I asked. He patiently explained that there was a process, random as it may be, to take players from the worst positions at existing tables and form a new table. The reasoning was; “We don’t want players who are signing up late to sit together, so we do it to prevent collusion.” He says. “Humph!” I shrug and shake my head.
My position, which I vehemently wanted to hang onto, was that everyone else in the tournament, that was here on time, is being inconvenienced! Losing the intel. and data gathering work they’ve done on the opponent’s they are currently sitting with, only to have it ripped away. While changing and adapting is a natural aspect of tournament play, it is usually due to players busting out and having to combine and balance tables. This was the opposite, we all had to change and balance tables because of player tardiness and joining the field late. Wait a minute, I was over an hour early! I thought this unfair and it sent me into protest. Not very effectively I might add as you will see.
The important factor not to be overlooked in all of this, at least from a competitive point of view, is that I not only let this process affect me, but I let it show. I was in an upset and acting like an amateur.
Pros don’t play in protest, period. A pro player playing his or her “A” game doesn’t get upset by what happens in the game, or if they do, they certainly don’t show it. A Pro plays conscious, alert and in present time. Accepting changes and flows as part of the game with a willingness to adapt their strategy to changes accordingly. I know this, and still, I was falling victim to my own protest.
After about 15 minutes I manage to center myself and was back to focusing on competing. Just then a new challenge emerged. A floor man swings back by with an empty rack, setting it down in front of me. “Time to move,” he says. I laughed at the irony, shook my head and quietly moved. Surprisingly, I find myself at an even better table then-then one I left! Just to the left of two big fish with chips! Yum-Yum!! Sounds like the perfect poker player’s meal. I went about building my chip stack, happy as a kid with a dish of chocolate pudding.
A friend of mine who was waiting for a seat as an alternate is watching my table. We chat and talk strategy for a few minutes. I tell him that if you like your table, make sure you pay close attention and get through the big blind quickly before they come and nab you and move you to another table. The very next lap around the table I elect to play a marginal hand under the gun. This extends the time before I take the big blind just long enough for me to see Death standing behind me with the all too familiar empty rack. Ahhhh!!! Nooooo!! My protest coming out full bare, “I’m not the big blind!” I yell at him. “Yes, you are. I got to move you.” No, not me again, I think to myself. My frustration building coming to a full froth the pent-up anger bubbling beneath my skin.
This time there was no acknowledgment, just hostility directed towards the floor man giving me the seat card. I snapped up the new seat assignment and proceeded to my new table, leaving a trail of steam and mumbling complaints in my wake. My anger was about to be unleashed.
This time the draw was not so generous and I was like a criminal peeking out from underneath a blindfold standing in front of a firing squad. The bullets to come from the very young guns I was resisting. The harder I tried to center myself and accept my new reality, the more the resistance took hold. Like a Red Hawk whose talons are already in its prey. I was dinner.
It took about 30 minutes before the 30k+ chip stack I had accumulated was reduced to a vacant space of felt just north of me. “Rebuy,” I announced. I replenished my chips and interestingly a sense of calm came over me. The anger that I had released in destroying my chip stack, along with my chips, was gone.
I went on to play well but fell short of cashing. Going out 41st in a field of 250.
With the loss of this tournament, I realized something very valuable. I realized that to win anything of value is not to take or even desire the easy path. That realization along with knowing the source of my troubles didn’t start with or have anything to do with the floor man. The trouble had to do with me wanting an easy way out and more specifically with my protest of the changes that are simply a part of any game.
Moving forward I will keep in mind Luke (Paul Newman) in the movie “Cool Hand Luke.” No matter how tough he had it, he always kept his cool. Even when your "card dead" or seem to have nothing going for you, remember, “sometimes nothing can be a real cool hand.”
Keep your Cool, Kenna
