The History of No-Limit Hold 'Em

I guess it takes some audacity for me to claim that I can summarize the entire History of No-Limit Hold ‘Em Poker into a single blog entry. But blogging takes some audacity to begin with, so I suppose I’ll plead guilty as charged. Maybe it will help to say that my own evolution as a poker player mirrors the timeline that I’m about to lay out.

STAGE ONE: 1950s-late 1980s

No one really knows when the first hand of Hold ‘Em was played, or even where. The fact that its full name is “Texas Hold ‘Em” would seem to be a clue regarding the latter. It was definitely being played there by 1959, and within ten years it had spread to Las Vegas. Twenty years after that, it was declared a game of skill by the state of California, and poker rooms throughout that state (which had been spreading draw poker for some time) started spreading that game too. Even to this day, the twin epicenters of Hold ‘em poker are Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

Although poker was legally – and legitimately – determined to be a game of skill, very few players happened to have any. Roughly 99% of all players at this time just played by feel, not really paying attention to which hands are best to hold pre-flop, or when one should fold post-flop. There are still plenty of players who play this way, and you can still find them in pretty much every game. In fact, nearly every poker beginner starts out at this point, and only a few graduate to the next level of skill.

STAGE TWO: Late 1980s-2003

By the time the 80’s were coming to an end, folks started noticing that some players were consistently winning more often than others; i.e., that it wasn’t all just luck after all. The players who were winning had been studying the game, and had figured out that the way to defeat the amateurs was to play a very tight game – folding the overwhelming percentage of the time preflop, and only going to war with the best hands possible. Then, when they did play a hand, bet aggressively to build big pots that they were more likely to win. The strategy even had a name: Tight-aggressive, or TAG. Players like Tom McEvoy, Chris Ferguson, and Phil Helmuth, Jr. were winning world championships with this strategy. T.J. Cloutier became the most successful tournament player in history by using it.

But the seeds of change were being sown, and the TAGs were about to be left behind by a new generation.

STAGE THREE: 2003-Today

The year 2003 was pivotal in Hold ‘em poker. Several significant events happened during this year:

·       A new TV show hit cable television, called the “World Poker Tour”. The show featured (mostly) well-known players playing for millions of dollars, with hidden cameras showing the audience the players’ hole cards. People were finally starting to see some of the strategy behind how winning players played. And since success breeds imitators, the WPT was just the first of over a dozen poker TV shows to hit the networks over the next few years.

·       An anonymous accountant with the serendipitous name of Chris Moneymaker won the World Series of Poker Main Event – poker’s world championship. This fired the imaginations of would-be rounders all over the poker universe. If an amateur like Moneymaker could win the biggest game in poker, maybe they could too.

·       Internet poker started going mainstream. Someone playing online could play more poker in a minute than a live player could play in an hour. Some folks played more hands in just a few months than Doyle Brunson had played in fifty years at the live table.

As the popularity of poker skyrocketed, the TAGs from earlier days saw an opening and began to publish books evangelizing their TAG doctrine. A flood of material from authors like McEvoy, Cloutier, Sklansky, Gordon, and Ciaffone hit the poker universe. The seminal work was probably Dan Harrington’s series, “Harrington on Hold ‘em”. Harrington was himself a world champ, earning the tongue-in-cheek nickname “Action Dan” for his famously tight play. His disciples came to be known as “Harring-bots”. Sayings such as “tight is right” and “fit or fold” started gaining currency.

But behind the scenes, the oh-so-perfect edifice of TAG was beginning to crumble. The culprit? A new strategy, honed to perfection by hordes of internet players: LAG, or “Loose-aggressive”. TAG remains to this day a very effective strategy for cash games, where one has the luxury of sitting around waiting for the very best hands. But it’s suicide in tournaments. Bottom line, you just can’t wait for premium hands in tournaments; the blinds and antes will decimate your stack and make you a non-factor by the time you decide to play something. Consequently, loosening up your opening standards, which increases variance, is mandatory for tournament success. The “aggressive” component of TAG was still relevant in this new strategy. But tight was no longer right; and fit or fold meant failure.

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And this is the path my own personal game has taken. I started off with an understanding of the rules of Hold ‘Em but no idea of strategy (or even an awareness that “strategy” existed). Then I discovered – and read – pretty much every poker book that had been written by the TAG generation, and my game improved correspondingly. But tournament success continued to elude me. I would sit and watch my stack gradually get whittled away, implementing my TAG strategy to perfection. I came to realize that I needed to loosen my game, but wasn’t sure exactly how to do that. It wasn’t until I hired a coach with tournament success of his own that I started to assemble this final piece in my game. It’s definitely made my overall game much more successful … and more fun, too.

Poker and Gambling

Well it’s been six months, I suppose that’s a long enough delay between blog posts. To dip my foot back into the waters, let me describe a situation that always sets me on edge: Whenever I hear poker defined as gambling, especially by people who should know better (like poker pros). It’s not. At least, not by my definition.

Perhaps that’s where the disconnect is. Allow me to define the term my way. “Gambling” to me is putting money at risk when you can have no impact whatsoever on whether you win or lose. The lottery is gambling. Slot machines are gambling. Roulette and Craps are gambling. Keno is definitely gambling … the worse game in the house. In fact, just about everything in the casino is what I would call gambling – you have no impact on the outcome. The only exceptions for me would be Blackjack (if you’re counting cards), Sports betting (but only if you are REALLY studying the game … maybe 2% of all sports betters are good enough to do this), and of course poker. In fact, I think it’s something of a tragedy that poker is generally found in casinos … I end up having to walk past all of this real estate that doesn't interest me in the slightest to get to the small room where I can personally affect my own results.

There’s certainly an element of luck involved in poker, no doubt about it. And that’s actually a good thing. If there wasn't any luck in poker (as Phil Hellmuth, Jr. once astutely observed), the best player would win all of the money and everyone else would lose. But because of the luck factor, sometimes bad players win. And sometimes, they win a lot. And sometimes they win over a long stretch of time, although it’s unlikely that they will. But the best players will lose sometimes … and win more often. And they'll win more when they do win. I've heard some players refer to poker as an “investment”. I don’t think they’re far off.

It’s worth noting that the IRS agrees with my definition, and allows “Professional Poker Player” to be used as a valid employment definition. For this, we owe a debt of gratitude to Billy Baxter, who sued the US and won. The IRS at first would not permit Baxter to identify himself as a professional poker player, a position which would have bumped his tax rate up to around 70%. The judge turned to the prosecutor and said, “Son, if you think poker is a game of luck, let’s have you and Mr. Baxter sit down here with $50,000 and a deck of cards, and just see who wins.”

Enough of an entry for one day … hopefully it won’t be another six months before my next post. Meanwhile, Merry Christmas to one and all!

It's the WORLD SERIES!!

The World Series of Poker is in full swing at the Rio in Las Vegas. Three massive rooms in the hotel’s convention center have been set up with hundreds of poker tables to handle the 10,000+ players coming in from all over the planet to sit down and play a game of cards. With nearly 70 bracelet events and every cash game variant imaginable being dealt during a six week timeframe, there really is something for everyone. And those who sit down at the table bring with them the distinctive style of how the game is played where they’re from – East Coast, West Coast, Asia, Scandinavia, etc.

Into this milieu I entered, ready for a session of $2/$5 No-Limit Hold’em. If it weren't for the fact that this was the World Series, and my opponents were literally from all over the world, the fact that I had decided to play the cash games wouldn't merit much attention. But there were two people in particular at this table – Europeans – that I kept my eye on. They had the loose, hyper-aggressive style common to that continent, which required my concentration and largely kept me from playing on autopilot.

One of these opponents was from England, although from his looks he could pass for Mediterranean or even Arabic. But he was on the opposite end of the table from me, and we didn't clash all that often. When we did, I knew enough of his style to parry his attacks and largely hold my own.

The other European was directly on my left. Although she was French-Canadian, she was originally from Bosnia and played that way. Whenever she decided to enter a pot preflop, she almost never limped but bombed the pot. Post-flop, she bet every time she was checked to, and her bets were close to pot-sized. Her sheer aggression was earning her far more pots than she deserved, and nobody was quite sure how to play against her.

From my perspective, the fact that she was right next to me was the most problematical issue. It was very hard for me to make any moves in a hand, because she’d come over the top of me frequently and blow my strategy out of the water. Bottom line – I ended up having to surrender the smaller pots to her due to her aggression and my inability to read her or figure out how to counter-attack. But with a monster hand, I was more than willing to let her bloat the pot, and then take it on the river. And the two big pots I did take more than made up for the many small ones I released to her.

Early in the session, I was dealt Ac Qc in UTG+1. The player on my right, the first to act, raised to $15. With a hand this good, I would frequently re-raise. But at this table, I didn't have to bother; I knew one of my aggressive opponents would do it for me. Sure enough, like clockwork, the lady on my left popped it to $60. Everyone else folded, and I called, so it was head-up. Effective stacks were roughly $400 (I had a slight edge on her chipcount).

The flop was Qd 8h 3d. I was convinced that I had the best hand, so it was only a matter of trying to figure out how to get the most money into the pot. I paused and thought and eventually checked. Sure enough, my opponent pushed out a bet of $85 into the $140 pot, leaving around $300 behind.

Here’s where I went into Hollywood mode (something I very rarely do). I looked at her bet, looked at the pot, looked at my chips, counted out the call, looked over at her stack, asked how big it was, and then put out the call. I realized that I was representing a diamond flush draw, so I went with that.

The turn was the 8d, and so I immediately donk-shoved. It didn't take her long to muck, and I stacked a $300 pot without having to show my hand. Maybe if I’d played it slower I’d have won more; a turn c-bet from her was a near certainty, and there couldn't have been too many river cards I had to fear. But I was happy with the pot I got.

The second big pot of the two I won from her happened late in the session – sort of a bookend to the whole day. I think I played this one better. I’d spent the previous hours getting to know her a little bit better, and she has a fascinating story. Grew up in Bosnia, fled to Quebec during their civil war not knowing a word of either French or English. Now, twenty or so years later, she speaks both, as well as her native Bosnian. Since she was taking so many pots from me, I was constantly teasing her about how she was outplaying me and stealing my action. “Cut it out!” I complained. “Let me win a pot, will ya?” She just smiled and kept up her aggression.

I was dealt Kc Tc in the hijack, and in a true rarity at this table action was folded to me. I knew this was going to end with us heads-up, and I had a hand I liked, so I kicked the action up to $15. She re-raised to $60 on the button (of course), and the two of us went from there. As I put in my call, I continued to needle her: “Well, I guess I can kiss these chips goodbye too.” This actually got a laugh from the table (poker humor has a low bar for success). The intervening hours had given us both the chance to grow our stacks; and while I’m not sure which of us had the bigger stack, they were both around $2000 by now.

The flop was Qc 8h 3c, which was far and away the best flop I could have hoped for: Second nut flush draw on a board unlikely to hit her range. I checked and let her continuation bet. She did, for a $90 bet, and I called, complaining the whole way. I figured that even if I was behind, any club, King, or Ten would put me ahead.

The turn was 6c. Unlike the previous hand above (where I was falsely representing a flush), this time I checked; certain of the fact I was way ahead at this point. She bet again ($200), and I called again.

The river wasn't really what I wanted: 9c. An Ace was definitely in her range, and the club Ace outkicked my turned flush. But while I couldn't bring myself to bet, neither could I bring myself to fold when she fired the third bullet. I called her $200 river bet, and when I showed the flush she mucked. Well over $1000 in round plastic disks were pushed towards me.

It doesn't matter how many pots you win; only how big they are.

WSOP is Drawing Nigh

The annual World Series of Poker (WSOP) begins next week. Currently, I've made plans to play four bracelet events: The Seniors Tournament ($1000; first year I'm eligible); the Little One/One Drop ($1111 buy-in); and two others ($1000 and $1500 buy-in). I am NOT going to be able to play the Main Event; not because of the cost ($10,000) but because I just can't take the time off work.

With a little luck, I might be able to put in some time at the cash games as well. Now, whether that aforementioned luck is good or bad is a matter of debate ... as tight as the scheduling is, probably the only way I'll get to the ring games is if I'm knocked out before I get to the cash.

This year I'm doing something I've never done before: I'm selling pieces of my action, in three of those four planned events. People have been asking me to do this literally for years, but I've always held off. I've swapped pieces in tournaments before, and I've run last-longer bets, but I've never gone to this extent before now. Frankly, I'm still conflicted about doing this, for many reasons. Here is some of my thinking on the whole process, both pro and con:

• This is EXTREMELY common in the poker community. Folks buy, sell, and swap pieces all the time in tournament poker. It helps to cut down on the overall variance. I can completely respect that.
• I don't need the money. I've been saving for this for over a year, and have plenty of money stored up to go the distance without looking for backers.
• The whole process of looking for backers strikes me as a bit ... unseemly, I guess I'd say. I'm not accustomed to it, outside the context of fundraising for a nonprofit or something along those lines.
• I really don't know what the added pressure of playing on behalf of a crowd of people is going to feel like. Will it take me off my A-game? I guess if I felt it would, I wouldn't be asking for money. Given the amount of experience I've got by now, I'm feeling better about this than I would have, say, even a year ago.
• It requires my backers to have trust in my integrity and honesty. I could literally just collect the money and skip the tournament, then report that I'd been knocked out early, and keep the funds. I've even heard of players who sell over 100% of their action and then skip the tournament. But my reputation being what it is, I doubt anybody believes that I would ever do something like that.

On the other hand, something like this did actually happen to me: I joined a bunch of other guys who backed one player, a major pro, in a WPT event. He got knocked out the first day. Or so he said. Then he re-entered the second day (with a different backer, according to him), went deep, and cashed for a big score ... none of which came my way, because I hadn't backed his re-entry. Shame on me for not investigating the details of this tournament, or putting conditions on his re-entry and my participation in it. But I probably won't back this guy again.

Pendleton Poker Round-Up Main Event

In no-limit hold-em, a single hand can mean the difference between a winning session and a losing one. This is particularly true in cash games, but the principle generally holds true in tournaments as well. Play enough of these correctly, and you will win tournaments.

Yesterday, during the Pendleton Poker Round-Up Main Event, I was dealt Ace/King off-suit in early position. It was early in the tournament, before antes had kicked in. I had a slightly above-average stack. I brought it in for a rather small raise. I got four callers, including the big blind, who was a very good (and observant) player. Of all the callers, he was the one I was the most concerned about. Fortunately, he’s also the one I had position on.

The flop came King, Six, Three … all spades. I did not have a spade in my hand.

Now, in years past, my thinking would go as follows: “Oh no! I have a terrific hand, but look at that flush draw! I need to bomb the pot and chase out the drawers so I can take it down right now!” Then I’d follow up with a monster bet of 75%-80% of the pot.

But since I've started working with the guys at the Portland Poker University, they've helped me think about these types of situations differently. If I bomb the pot, the only callers I get will be the ones who've already flopped the flush and have me beat. And I’ll get no value whatsoever from players with worse hands.

So I decided to take a different tack. I bet about half the pot. This was plenty enough to scare away all but the big blind, who called. We went to the turn heads-up.

The turn was the Queen of Diamonds.

The big blind checked. I bet again, this time a bit more than half the pot. I felt I probably had the best hand, and wanted to charge my opponent a high price if he was on a draw and wanted to continue. He called.

The river was the Eight of Clubs. No draws hit. My opponent checked, and I checked behind. When I showed my top pair, he mucked. There’s no question whatsoever that I made more money in this hand than I would have if I’d played it the old way.

One reason why I think my opponent called me down was that just a few hands earlier I had fired three bullets on a missed draw (but hadn't really lost that many chips). I’m sure he’d seen that, and since I pretty much played this hand the same way, he might have had a bluff-catcher … a lower pocket pair, or a hand like Ace/Six with the Ace of Spades.

If there was any error in the way I played this hand, it might have been that I missed a river value bet. But if he raises me, what would I do? I figured a river bet probably only gets called by a hand that has me beat, and the pot was big enough to take down.

Live and learn. I wonder what improvements in my game will come next?

Pendleton Poker Round-Up: The Cash Game

Here I am in lovely Pendleton, Oregon for their “Round-Up” series. I've mentioned before how much I enjoy this tournament. It rivals the WSOP in my totally subjective judgment. But it’s the incredibly juicy cash games that first attracted me to this location; and it’s still the cash games that bring in most of the money while I’m here.

Last night was a particularly noteworthy session. I was playing the $2/$5 no-limit game, which has a $800 max buy-in. One guy sat down, bought in for the max, and immediately started winning. And winning big. He busted four players, two of them twice. He was winning pot after pot. His style was maximum aggression – when someone came in for a raise to $15 or $20, he’d re-raise to $80. He basically blasted people out of every pot, and when he was called down, he’d flip over two pair or some other genuine hand. It was amazing to behold. By the time he cashed out, he had around $3000 sitting in front of him.

And I can confess in all honesty … for all those chips of his piled into massive stacks, not a single one of them came from me.

Oh, I suppose it’s possible he picked up a small blind or two from me. But for whatever reason, the two of us just never tangled. It helped (significantly!) that I had position on him. But the table dynamics being what they were, I just played massively tight overall. Once I folded Ace/Queen from the big blind; something that I almost never do. That’s tight!

But I still came out winner, doubling my buy-in and busting two players myself. Two big hands come to mind (these are the hands that busted my opponents). Before I go into the details, I’m certain that one of the reasons why I did so well at this table had to do with Mr. Luckbox being there. His shadow loomed over every hand, even the ones he wasn't in. Everybody – except for me – wanted to take shots at him. And on those few occasions where he wasn't in a hand, his spirit still infused the overall table action.

I’ll also admit something else right up front: Pretty much all of these players were clearly, demonstrably better than me. It’s always been one of the things I do, almost instinctively, when I sit down at a poker table: Figure out which players are better, and which are worse, and then adjust my game against each of those players. And it was pretty obvious that most of these folks were master players. This usually doesn't intimidate me, and I’m willing to play a game with better players – occasionally – but with the weird spirit of this particular table, my plan was to just play ultra-tight (for the most part) and let the cards, and hopefully the chips, come to me.

In the first hand that I want to share, I was on the button. The first player in raised, another called, and the player on my right (an excellent player who’d already been felted once by Mr. Luckbox) also called. I looked down and saw King of Hearts/Jack of Hearts, and called the bet.

Now, after emphasizing just how tight I’d been, playing King/Jack doesn't fit that profile. Pretty as it looks, it just isn't that good of a hand. Frankly, it’s so bad that I’d frequently raise with it rather than call. That sounds like an odd thing to say, but in most games it would be the better play. I’d have to admit that it’s a rather advanced concept though. The reason I didn't raise here is that I didn't really want to re-open the betting at this crazy-loose table. And I trusted my post-flop play to keep me out of the worst danger.

The blinds both completed the bet, and six of us took the flop: 8c Ks 7h. So I had top pair, yucky kicker.

The preflop raiser dutifully put in a continuation bet. The next player folded, and the player on my right put in a healthy raise. I actually thought my hand might be best, so I called his raise. Everyone else folded, so it was just the two of us.

The turn was 9d.

My opponent bet about a third of his stack – a little over $100. I gave this a lot of thought. For whatever reason, it was really tough for me to put him on a hand. He’d just lost all his chips to Mr. Luckbox, and re-bought. There’s a decent chance he was on tilt. The only hands I needed to fear were Ace/King, King/Queen, or a straight/set/two pair. While these were all possible holdings, I thought a tilt play was the most likely … Ace/Eight or Ace/Nine, for example. And my weak King beat those.

Once I decided to continue in the hand, the only other question was precisely how. Should I call, or should I raise and put the pressure on? He only had around $200 left, so that would essentially mean putting him all-in. Even if I my read was off and I was behind, I had a draw to a straight. I decided to just call.

The river was the 3h.

I had been thinking for some time about the relative weakness of my hand, and strongly considering a river all-in. If my hand really was weaker than his, it might be the only way to win. But before I could carry through with this plan … he shoved himself. This was a rather unexpected, and undesired, wrinkle. I knew I should fold … but I just couldn't. I kept thinking about how he could be on tilt. I started thinking about how I would shove myself in his position with a weak hand. I started to realize that perhaps my hand was best after all. Eventually, I called.

He showed King/Ten. I dragged in an $800 pot while the rest of the table marveled at how I could play a King/Jack the way I did.

The next hand was near the end of the session. The player under-the-gun raised. He got one caller in middle position, and one in late position. I was in the big blind. I looked down at two red Kings, and re-raised. The UTG player called, as did the mid-position player.

The flop came 8s Kc 7d. I checked. The UTG player made a very large, pot-sized bet. I was the only caller. My hand was so huge that I just couldn't raise … and why bother, when I can just let my opponent do the betting for me?

The turn was the 9h. I checked again, drawing another pot-sized bet from my opponent. I thought for a very long time. I just couldn't put him on a draw, and I still didn't want to scare him off. So rather than shove, I just called again.

The river was the 4h. Now I went ahead and sprang the trap. I shoved, and he beat me into the pot. I suppose he thought I was betting a busted straight draw. But my set of Kings cracked his Aces, and I pulled in another $700 pot. I can’t imagine that this hand would have played out this way if it hadn't been for the presence of Mr. Luckbox, who essentially tilted everyone at the table. Except for me.

Poker is BORING

Every so often a friend of mine tells me that he (or, on occasion, she) would like to go to the casino with me and watch me play poker. Sometimes they even do. (The technical term for this is “to rail”.) But they only do it once; and after having done so, they never offer to rail me a second time. And I’m not hurt by this dismissal, because I know exactly why they don’t want to come back:

Poker is BORING.

Excruciatingly, mind-numbingly boring. Stick-a-needle-in-your-eye-to-pass-the-time boring.

If you come rail me during a game, I can tell you exactly what you are going to see: You’re going to watch me fold every hand I’m dealt for an hour and a half. Then I’m going to play a hand where, possibly, I’ll put a whole bunch of chips in the pot. I’ll probably win the hand; or I might lose it. Regardless, after that hand, I’ll go back to folding for another ninety minutes.

If you watch me play a tournament, you might see me playing a few more hands. I've got to; in a tournament one just doesn't have the luxury of sitting around waiting for a big hand.

You’ll leave the poker room glassy-eyed, and likely with me still at the table. You’ll wonder how I could possibly spend ten or twelve (or more) hours straight doing this kind of thing. And I’d be happy to answer that question.

To me, poker isn't boring. Not in the slightest. In fact, it is riveting. There’s nothing I can think of (besides football) that’s more exciting to watch on television than ten or twelve hours of poker. I’m on the edge of my seat with the turn of every card. My mind is whirring at a thousand miles an hour, considering:

·         The math of the hand – who has the best chance of winning it at the moment, and why, and what cards could change the math on the next street.

·         How this information could (and should) affect how the players play the rest of the hand.

·         What the players might be thinking about their opponents’ holdings, and impact that could might have on the way they play their own hand.

·         How I would play the hand, and why.

·         How the hand could be played more effectively to extract more chips from the losing player.

·         How the hand could be played more effectively to minimize the loss to the winning player.

·         And an uncountable myriad of other concepts.

Sometimes I’ll even back up the recording and replay a street, or a hand, or even the entire episode, to make sure I haven’t missed anything.

Being at the table in person isn't that much different, although I have less information to go on because I can’t see the cards unless the players decide to show them. However, the stakes of paying attention to what’s happening are infinitely higher, because these are the players I will be going up against myself. That’s sufficient inspiration to maintain my attention.

It definitely takes a special kind to be a poker player.