The Professional Poker Player vs. a Large Cheese Pizza

I am opening this blog with a joke. "What is the difference between a large cheese pizza and a professional poker player?" If you don't already know the answer, I'll give you the punch line at the end.

Rounders is a film about the underground world of high-stakes poker. Starring Matt Damon, the movie follows a promising law school student who, after the movie's twists and turns, elects to become a professional poker player rather than an attorney. In poker, there are several poker terms that refer to a person based on their style of play. While all professional poker players make their living solely on the profit they earn at the poker tables, a "Rounder" (synonymous with a "Grinder") is usually a player who tends to play mid or low stakes games and win money bit by bit. There are no commercial sponsors, there is no fame, and there certainly is no glamour. You may have seen me refer to "the grind" or "grinding" in previous entries.

Although poker is not my primary source of income, the winnings I've earned from grinding are a necessary supplement to my family's household budget. I was considered to be, more or less, a Rounder. I say was because, I although profitable as a Rounder, after placing high in my first two tourneys I decided to try the tournament circuit. Although I cash often enough, tournament poker does not provide the steady income that grinding does. In addition, since time is something I do not have an abundance of, my grinding hours have had to give way to playing satellites for tournament entries.

For those of you who may not know, the style of play in a cash game is usually different than the necessary style of play in a tournament. Of course, at its core, poker is played based on a number of factors: (a) the cards dealt; (b) the amount of chips in play; and (c) the style and personality of each opponent. However, beyond the A-B-C's of poker, the best-of-the-best have dimensions to their game. As with all professions, out of the millions of poker players out there, only the select few have become prominent professionals that play a variety of games and balance their careers between high stakes cash games and high-priced notable tournaments. The majority of poker players are specialists. Most non-recreational poker players make their living playing hold'em poker and can be categorized as either a cash player or a tournament player.

In cash play, like most poker players, I decide on a maximum investment for each session of play and set goals for profit and limits for loss. When I hit my mark (good or bad), I get up and I walk away. I try to remember that it is a job and I am at the felt to make a profit to support my family. If I don't have a profitable session, I have to protect my bankroll and resist the temptation to play that "one more hand." (A bankroll is the same as an operating account to a traditional business, and as with any business, committing too much money towards bad investments will eventually lead to bankruptcy). I believe a good poker player can recognize what could be a good session or a bad session within the first hour sitting at the table, and decide to either adjust her style of play and or simply get up and leave to grind another day. No matter what, in a cash game, I can sit at the table so long I have money and am willing to put that money on the table. I know that with each session if I play, there is no limit to how much I can win and how much I can loose.

In tournament play, a poker player is in for the long haul. While bankroll management is still a huge factor in tournament play, the binary profit/loss concept is all but non-existent. Tournament play is governed by the rules of return on investment. Whether I am having a good day or bad day, I play a tournament based on a series of contingent goals: (1) chip-up to secure a position in the top 10% to earn a share in the purse [minimal return on investment]; (2) chip-up to secure a seat at the final table [moderate return on investment]; and (3) chip-up to achieve first place [maximum return on investment]. Although some tournaments allow players to re-buy up to a certain level, a player must sit at the table and continue to play so long as the player has chips. I know I have had a bad day when I loose all of my chips and must leave the tournament with nothing to show for it. I know I have had a fairly good day when I have made made my money back plus profited enough to justify the hours spent playing the event. Of course, my goal is always to win first place so, when involved in a hand, in addition to all of the other questions that run through my head, there is one additional question I ask myself, "am I willing to risk the rest of my tournament life on this play." In a tournament, I know I can only loose the amount of money I paid for the entry fee and I can only win the share of the total entry fees collected that have been apportioned to the position I place in the tournament.

I have been focused on tournaments for a year now, and I feel like I miss the security I found in the grind. After going out on the bubble during a second chance tournament during the Bike's Legend of Poker series, I did what many poker players do when they hit a slump, I vowed to never play again. I spent my bankroll and crawled into a virtual hole. The words of Joey Kinsh repeated over and over in my head, "[y]ou ignorant punk. I play for money. I owe rent. Child support. I play for money, not the f^ckin' world series on ESPN."

I am a driven person and am often criticized by my friends and family for being a perfectionist. I play poker with that same zeal. I want to be the best and I strive to make no mistakes. In the words of Mike McDermott, "[i]f you can't spot the sucker in the first half hour at the table, then you ARE the sucker. " Falling short of perfection often shakes up my world and requires me to step back and take a second look at my goals before effort turns into obsession. I tried to keep my spirits up my convincing myself that I was taking much needed time off. But, in reflection I was just hold up on my house wallowing in denial. Now I am writing this blog entry to see if I can find the motivation to get back out there and do what I love to do. Play poker.

I am at a crossroad. If I want to continue to play poker, I need to choose. Do I want to be a "Knish" or a "McDermott." As I sit here rubbing my forehead, I still don't know. All I know is the punch line to my opening joke. The difference between a professional poker player and a large cheese pizza is: a large cheese pizza can feed a family of four.

Posted in: Bankroll,Cash Game,Grinding,Poker,Tournament