Gloom, despair and agony on me
If you've spent any time at all around online poker, you've undoubtedly run across such conspiracies as the cashout curse and action flops. Heck, maybe you even believe in them. I don't.
But now I am about to propose a new conspiracy that I've discovered. I call it the braggart's curse. It works like this: You start playing well, you pull in some good money and you're feeling good. You keep winning and then you just have to let somebody, a friend or family member, know about how you're a damn good poker player, how you've made x-number of dollars and you're on your way to hitting the big time. As soon as you utter those words, you may as well cash out, because the next time you sit at a table, you're taking a nosedive.
I've experienced this from time to time, and especially now. When I won that multi back in May, I was on top of the world and had to let everybody know. Then I crashed and burned. There have been other times, as well: When I made my first good chuck of change, when I ran $40 to $1,600 over the course of two months, and now recently, when I started this blog.
Of course, I don't really think the online poker gurus are monitoring my conversations and saying to themselves, "OK, this one looks like he's getting a little too full of himself. Time to take him down a peg." But like most of the conspiracy theories out there, I think it's purely a psychological phenomenon and for pretty much the same reason.
Take the cashout curse. I think this is a direct result of getting overconfident in your play. You play, you do well, you make some money, you cash out a bunch and return to the tables. You're thinking you're the next big thing and you just get hammered. The problem is, you are expecting to win far more often than you actually will. You have have fallen under the mistaken notion that your success is because the cards just always fall in your favor, rather than your ability to fold far more often than you play. You're playing too many hands and staying in them too long, and before you know it you're busted.
I think the same goes for the braggart's curse. You think too much of yourself and you play like you're always going to win, rather than playing the game the way it's supposed to be played. Result: Bye-bye bankroll.
This is the life I've been living the past week. It started this past weekend, driving to the in-laws' house, when I mentioned to my wife that I was thinking of heading over the Lexington later that night to play in a tournament. The next thing you know, I'm telling her how I feel really good going into the tournament, how I used to be nervous going there, but now I feel like I'm one of the best players in the room, and how this would very likely be the source of a bunch of extra Christmas money. So what happens? Of course I lose, and in spectacular fashion.
Add to that this blog. I start talking about how I've done pretty damn well in the past and hope to do even better in the future. Presto-chango ... money gone. Yes, dear imaginary reader, these are the days of the insufficient bankroll. My five-year goal now feels hopelessly unrealistic, even if I were to push it back to 50 years.
One thing's for sure, though. I am not feeling overconfident right now.
But now I am about to propose a new conspiracy that I've discovered. I call it the braggart's curse. It works like this: You start playing well, you pull in some good money and you're feeling good. You keep winning and then you just have to let somebody, a friend or family member, know about how you're a damn good poker player, how you've made x-number of dollars and you're on your way to hitting the big time. As soon as you utter those words, you may as well cash out, because the next time you sit at a table, you're taking a nosedive.
I've experienced this from time to time, and especially now. When I won that multi back in May, I was on top of the world and had to let everybody know. Then I crashed and burned. There have been other times, as well: When I made my first good chuck of change, when I ran $40 to $1,600 over the course of two months, and now recently, when I started this blog.
Of course, I don't really think the online poker gurus are monitoring my conversations and saying to themselves, "OK, this one looks like he's getting a little too full of himself. Time to take him down a peg." But like most of the conspiracy theories out there, I think it's purely a psychological phenomenon and for pretty much the same reason.
Take the cashout curse. I think this is a direct result of getting overconfident in your play. You play, you do well, you make some money, you cash out a bunch and return to the tables. You're thinking you're the next big thing and you just get hammered. The problem is, you are expecting to win far more often than you actually will. You have have fallen under the mistaken notion that your success is because the cards just always fall in your favor, rather than your ability to fold far more often than you play. You're playing too many hands and staying in them too long, and before you know it you're busted.
I think the same goes for the braggart's curse. You think too much of yourself and you play like you're always going to win, rather than playing the game the way it's supposed to be played. Result: Bye-bye bankroll.
This is the life I've been living the past week. It started this past weekend, driving to the in-laws' house, when I mentioned to my wife that I was thinking of heading over the Lexington later that night to play in a tournament. The next thing you know, I'm telling her how I feel really good going into the tournament, how I used to be nervous going there, but now I feel like I'm one of the best players in the room, and how this would very likely be the source of a bunch of extra Christmas money. So what happens? Of course I lose, and in spectacular fashion.
Add to that this blog. I start talking about how I've done pretty damn well in the past and hope to do even better in the future. Presto-chango ... money gone. Yes, dear imaginary reader, these are the days of the insufficient bankroll. My five-year goal now feels hopelessly unrealistic, even if I were to push it back to 50 years.
One thing's for sure, though. I am not feeling overconfident right now.
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