Why do all the trees point toward my house?

"They're too good and you suck something awful."
-- Patches O'Houlihan
Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

That's me, folks, sucking something awful since 2005.

I wasn't always a lousy poker player, but I am now. In fact, "lousy" is too kind.

My first-hand disaster in yesterday's blogger freeroll was just the tip of the iceberg. I couldn't post a winning session right now if the cards were dealt face-up and all my opponents were blind. I don't know if there is a way to lose money playing solitaire, but if there is, I'm certain to find it any day now.

What brought me to this lowly state, you might ask? Like I have a clue. Truthfully, I've been pondering that question ever since yesterday. I'm still drawing blanks -- which just so happens to be the perfect match to my game of late.

For those of you who enjoy taking a peek when you drive by a head-on collision, here's the blow-by-blow account of what happened. When I got my seat in the tournament, I noticed that my prediction that there would be a lot of "away" players was dead-on. Eight of the nine seats at my table were filled, but five of those eight were sitting out. I started out as the small blind. The only other two players at the table who were actually logged-on were the big blind and the guy directly across the table from me.

I picked up a 67off. Guy across the table raises the 10-20 blinds to 100. I'm immediately suspicious, thinking that he's noticed all of the away players and has decided to try to steal the blinds. I decide I'm going to defend my small blind, even though all I have is a lowly 67 out of position. The raise isn't that much, and I figure he wouldn't need much, if anything, to try to make a play in what is essentially a three-handed game. I call and hope to hit the flop hard or fold. The big blind folds.

The flop is a dream for me -- K67. I'm figuring his range of hands has to be something like AK, KQ, KJ, or maybe something that's missed the board completely, like AQ or AJ. So, to compound my error of playing a poor hand out of position, I decide to slow-play. I check. He checks.

The turn is a 9. His check makes me think he's completely missed the board, so I throw in a pot-size raise. He makes a minimum reraise. I think for a moment, but I can't put him on 8-10 or K9, so I figure to have him beat. I figure he's got to be holding AK or KQ, or maybe something like JJ or 10-10. I call.

The river is another dream, a 6, giving me a full house. I'm certain he could not have a K6 or 96. I'm getting ready to yell for the wife and kids to come look, because Daddy just doubled up on the first hand. I am starting to wonder what I will need to do to prepare for the tournament in the Bahamas, because Fate has her hand on my back, guiding me to the certain win.

I figure he'll fold if I make my move now, so I check, hoping to get him all-in. He takes a long time to act, and I'm certain that he is worried by that 6. I just hope he doesn't decide to check his two pair or whatever, or that he bets so small that he can get away easily when I reraise all-in. Finally, he bets 1,000, which is just shy of the 1,100 pot. I can't hit "raise" fast enough, which is only about 400 more, so I know he has to call.

Fate had her hand on my back all right, and then she jammed her finger up my ass.

Hard.

He turned over KK.

I'm not bemoaning my luck. I know I was stupid to play 67off in a raised pot anyhow. Sure, I based my actions on a limited amount of knowledge and arrived at a seemingly logical conclusion, and I never fault someone else for making a logical play, even if it turns out to be wrong. But lately, it seems that I am convincing myself to take unnecessary risks rather frequently. Instead of taking all I have learned about poker the past few years and using it to make sound decisions, I'm twisting it to justify making the wrong decision. That is so obvious in this case; I was perfectly willing to believe my opponent had a hand strong enough for me to trap, but I wouldn't allow myself to believe he had one strong enough to beat me.

Sure, it was only a freeroll. Sure, I didn't lose anything ... except I did. I went into yesterday's tournament fully expecting to win it. Nothing else was acceptable. Thus, with that mindset, I lost $12,000 yesterday, because I missed the opportunity to win $12,000. And maybe that isn't a healthy way to approach the table, either.

I cannot see myself returning to the tables anytime soon. Before yesterday, I was merely frustrated by my poor play of late. Now I am disappointed, disheartened, disillusioned, disgusted and dismayed. Poker remains a very big part of my life, but only as a railbird for now. I'll take my stabs at the occasional freeroll, maybe satisfy my urge to play by firing up the Xbox, but I cannot, in good conscience, allow myself to throw away my hard-earned money on a game I've seemingly forgotten how to play.

That's not to say I'm giving up the game for good, but right now I am in the wilderness as far as my development as a poker player is concerned. I've been saying I need a break from the game for some time, but, like I am prone to do at the tables lately, I have ignored my better judgment. It's time to change that, if I ever hope to improve as a player.