While I have no interest in renewing the “big law firm” debate from a couple of weeks ago, I do want to take the liberty of making an analogy using the same model.

I’ve made a decision to enter a period of hyperactivity.  I’m going to be multitabling online or playing live poker for at least 12 hours per day for the next couple of weeks.  I am very determined to re-establish my profitability as a player right now, and bombarding my statistics with man-hours seems to be the best way to do that.

It’s gonna be just like there’s a big motion due when I was working at the firm!  OMG OMG OMG OMG!  Footnote #2 is spaced wrong.  No wait, it’s okay.  Wait wait wait… the appendices are all off.  Somebody needs to bluebook Section four!!!  And so forth. 

Sigh… at least my billables for February and March will look good!

I am back from Puerto Rico, which was a good vacation.  Great weather, lots of fun places to party and practice my gringo-level espanol.  And my crew unwittingly booked ourselves at the hotel with Puerto Rico’s best poker room, the Intercontinental. 

The Intercontinental runs decent no-limit tournaments throughout the weekend, and all of Puerto Rico’s finest poker players show up for them.  On Sunday afternoon, in particular, I was surprised at the number of serious poker players who attended.  I was not the most accomplished tournament pro in the room–a gentleman whom I vagulely reognized was there.  It turns out he was Karlo Lopez, who has had quite a bit of success in the WSOP and other major events.  Anyway, the Intercontinental is a very nice place and offers a bonus to those who enjoy poker.  Highly recommended.

Today, since baseball’s spring training is now well underway (sports fans are in the midst of that awful dead spot between the Super Bowl and March Madness), I thought I’d write a piece comparing baseball to tournament poker.  It’s especially apropos for me since I have just gone through dry spell, which is common to both sports (yes, I’m employing the word “sports” very loosely with respect to poker).  It’s also especially apropos for me because my grandfather taught me everything he knew about both poker and baseball when I was just a lad.  I was basically reared on both games.

Oh, and yeah, I know.   Baseball as a metaphor for pretty much everything else in the world has already been done.  Whatever.  My blog. 

In both baseball and poker tournaments, failure is the norm.  The very best batters only reach base safely roughly 40% of the time, and the very best tournament poker players only cash roughly 20% of the time.  An at bat or tournament finish results in nothing spectacular on all but a few occasions.  Thus, neither hitting nor tourney poker are healthy for people who can’t cope with frustration.  See O’Neill, Paul and Hellmuth, Phil, both of whom probably have shorter life expectancies than you or I.

Both pursuits reward patience and discipline.  Most successful batters succeed by forcing the pitcher into a spot where the pitcher must throw a hittable pitch, then seizing that opportunity when it finally arrives.  Skilled hitting is both a science and an art form:  the very best hitters systematically destroy a pitcher during each at bat by fouling off or taking the difficult pitches, then finally, once the pitcher exhibits some vulnerability, smashing the ball.  Likewise, a good tournament poker player often lays in wait, sometimes for very long periods of time, observing his opponents.  Then when an opponent eventually makes a mistake, the good poker player is there to exploit it.  A good example of this is a big preflop bluff executed by a tight player against a very loose, wild opponent.  The loose opponent may steal the observant player’s blinds many times over the course of a couple of hours, but when there is a lot of loose money trapped in the middle, the skilled player finally pounces.

There is yet another way that batting and tournament poker are very analogous:  in both fields it is very important not to be results-oriented in the short term.  In the short term, there is a tremendous amout of luck involved in both pursuits.  All baseball fans know all about “hittin’ ’em where they ain’t” (shoutout to Wee Willie Keeler)–wicked line drives frequently become outs, and broken bat dribblers frequently become base hits.  And all poker players know that pocket aces sometimes get cracked, and that sometimes seven-four offsuit rivers a straight.  Some of the greatest plays in baseball history have involved unlikely sequences (like say, a series of soft base hits culminating with a slow dribbler going through an opponent’s legs on a certain October night in 1986), and some of the greatest moments in poker history have likewise involved some very strange doings.  In baseball and poker, for brief glimpses, it can sometimes be better to be lucky than good. 

However, in the long run, in both baseball and poker, it is always better to be good.  That’s because everyone is equally lucky in the aggregate.  Taking this long view is difficult, since we all live our daily lives from moment to moment, a.k.a. the short term.  Even a lifetime .320 hitter gets really pissed off when he lines into a double play with the bases loaded in the ninth inning.  And even hardened poker pros ask God “why!?” when they lose with pocket kings against pocket sixes all-in preflop on the final table bubble.

In order to stay sane and continue to improve, I try to distinguish between my “bad slumps” and “variance slumps.”  I presume baseball players do the same thing.  We’ve all seen hitters in the throws of a bad slump.  They are off balance at the plate, taking pitches down the middle, and flailing at pitches in the dirt.  Hitters in bad slumps go 1 for 28 without hitting the ball out of the infield.  A poker player in a bad slump is consistently getting his money in the pot when he’s behind and/or failing to put money in the pot when he’s ahead.

Bad slumps require self-analysis and correction.  A hitter in a bad slump will take extra batting practice or perhaps revamp his stance or approach.  A poker player in a bad slump likewise must take the time to examine his game and figure out what he’s doing wrong.  In a way, the badly slumping baseball player probably is better off than the poker player.  Being sent to the minors can’t suck as badly as losing your bankroll.

Then we have the variance slump, probably the more frequent type of slump in both baseball and poker.  In baseball, the victim of a variance slump is doing nothing wrong mentally or mechanically.  The balls he hits are simply landing in the wrong places, usually his opponents’ gloves.  Everyone familiar with baseball knows that it is very common to hit line drives all over the yard yet finish the night 0-5.  I’ve seen players go through week-long slumps without ever having a bad at bat.  As a matter of fact, it is Joe DiMaggio’s miraculous defiance of baseball’s natural variance, not merely his supreme skill, that makes baseball’s record 56-game hitting streak such an astounding achievement.  It’s the baseball equivalent of winning an all-in with AK over a pocket pair 20 straight times.

In poker, the variance slump is such a common phenomenon that it’s barely worth citing examples of it.  On a personal level, I can tell you that I’ve been through multiple week-plus periods this year without earning any money.  And after careful, painstaking, Tony Gwynn-like examination of all the videotape, I have determined that I’ve only had a couple of bad at bats.  Tough?  Yes.  Typical?  Also yes. 

Lemme tells ya kid, it ain’t easy up here in the bigs. 

::Spits, adjusts cup::

Writing that made me hungry for some baseball. 

Let’s Go Mets!  

So today I’m headed to Puerto Rico for my friend Dave’s bachelor party.  I did a little homework and it seems that they do have poker at Puerto Rican casinos.  The reports state that all they spread is limit hold ’em with an outrageous (10%) rake.  But the reports also state that it’s no fold ’em hold ’em in the truest sense:  pretty much every player sees every flop.  We’ll see what this mainland rock can do in these games.

Unfortunately, this is the most exciting poker-related thing I can say about this trip to Vegas. 

I played two tournaments, bubbling the $300 at the Wynn on Thursday, then finishing 17th out of around 80 players at the $1000 at Bellagio on Friday.  In both tournaments I made a nice comeback and had plenty of chips just before my demise.  I then got into a big confrontations with bigger stacks, got my money in when I was ahead, and got drawn out on.  If I win either hand, I’m making big money.  Blah.

The cash games haven’t been much better.  I got into a juicy NL game at the Wynn, but had a few unlucky breaks there and couldn’t make much money.  Then I played in a 2-4 NL game at Mandalay Bay, which historically has always been among the fishiest of scenes.  But when I went (Thursday Night), I was disappointed to find that it was a table full of poker dealers from other properties, all of whom were good players, and some of whom were softplaying one another.  Far from ideal conditions.  Oh well.

As the title of this post implies, I had the opportunity to play with Sam Grizzle on this trip.  When the Bellagio tournament got down to two tables, I drew the seat to Sam’s immediate right.  Some of you might remember Mr. Grizzle from ESPN’s 2003 World Series of Poker coverage, when he and Phil Hellmuth were hurling insults at one another. 

Sam is a very interesting character.  He’s an older, weather-beaten looking man from South Carolina, a true veteran of the poker scene that plays mostly cash games.  He talks continuously while he plays.  His chatter, which is delivered rapidfire in a thick accent (he sounds kinda like Hank Hill’s jibberish-talking friend on “King of the Hill”) has a disorienting, dizzying effect on his opponents.  He simply does not shut up, even when hands are being contested.  He seems to have a talent for separating his brain from his mouth–he can make accurate reads and good decisions at the table while simultanesouly talking utter nonsense about scinitllating topics like the best catfish he ever tasted. 

Sam also has a reputation for being very surly and discourteous, to put it nicely.  Others might just say that he’s a jackass.  I do know that at one time he was banned from both the Mirage and Bellagio.  He has allegedly gotten into physical altercations with both Phil Helmuth and David Grey.  On Friday, though, Sam was running good and was in a capital mood.

Sam had just busted another player.  The other guy limped in early position and Sam checked his big blind.  The flop came A-2-5 rainbow and Sam led out with a 1/2 pot sized bet.  The other guy smooth called.  The turn was a 9, and again Sam bet half the pot, and got called again.  The river was a jack, and this time Sam made a big bet.  The other guy immediately went all in and Sam said “ah cawl” before the other guy could even push his chips into the pot.  The other guy showed a set of fives, but Grizzle turned over the 4-3 of spades.  He had flopped a wheel.  And boy was he delighted with himself.  He cackled for three solid minutes after the conclusion of the hand.

Playing next to Sam Grizzle went something like this:

So, ahm head-up in this Omahaw-eight tourn’ment.  This hadda be ’round ’92 or ’93.  And this guy cain’t play a lick.  I mean, yer sister can play better Omahaw-eight than this fella.  But he’s talkin’ all sorta mess.  Sez ah got no chaince ‘gainst ‘im.  Tells it to mah faice.  (Sam open-folds).  Well you know ahh ain’t takin’ that shit from this nobody, so ah sez to him, ‘aww right fella, how’s ’bout this here:  let’s the two of us play for awl the caish, second place gets nothin’.’  Well that shut ‘im up right good.  So then ah started beatin’ on him, pot after pot…  Hol’ on justa second while ah try to steal these here blinds…. (Sam raises three times the big blind).  So finally ah git this dummy down to ’round a third of the chips in play, and the blinds are a-way up there now… (the small blind puts in a reraise).  Reraise to how much?  Sementy-two hunnerd?  What in the hell could you have there, bud, bettin’ me sementy-two hunnerd?  Ah raise it up in second position and you pull that shit?…  Aww right, i’m gonna lay one down for you, fella, jus’ this one time… (Sam folds, dealer ships opponent the pot).  So where was I?  Right, so this guy comes in fer a raise and ah look down n’ see two aces and a duece.  So ah reraise this fella all in, and he cawls me with… get this… some boolshit haind like jack-nahn-semen-three.  (Sam open-folds the next hand)… An’ a-course what flops?  jack, nahn, semen.  This fool makes two payer on me.  But the turn ‘an river came a-runnin’ tens or some shit and ah win the damn tourn’ment.  Ain’t that some shit?  (Sam open folds again and notices my little box of toothpicks).  Care to share, pardner?  (I give Sam a toothpick and he pops it in his mouth, then makes an exaggerated funny face).  Goddamn, what in the fuck is een these things?  Awstrailyen tee-trea toothpics?!  My mouth is burnin’!  What kinda of bool-shit toothpick did you give me, fella?  Yer tryin’ to take me offa mah game, ain’t ya?  Well that ain’t gon’ work on me, ah can tell you that…

I have arrived.  I’m back in Vegas for the first time since the ’06 World Series.

The phrase in the title of this post is a tribute to my current Vegas roomate Matt Catapano, for whom “dear blogisphere” is a two-word mantra.  The translation, loosely, is “David’s blog is gay.”

Anyway, I never lose in Las Vegas cash games.  Hopefully my forays on this trip will not be any exception.

Am I allowed to be doing this?

‘Cause I am.