That Old Familiar Feeling

I can stomach lots of bad beats in a day. In a week. In a life. That poker skill is way more important than people tell you. I'm pretty damn good about controlling my emotions. But I do have a breaking point. Once or twice a year I reach a point where I can no longer take it. Things keep going wrong at the poker table and it feels personal. It seems fixed. Why would my opponent call an all in with that hand on that board? How did he know what was coming next? I curse the Universe. Not out loud of course. But inside I suffer. I perceive a lack of fairness. I seek justice.

Logically it makes no sense. But this isn't about logic. It's not even about money. I'm no longer playing to eat. No now I'm playing for fun. Well in theory I am. But it's not the truth. No the truth is I'm playing for my ego. I'm playing to be right. I'm playing to show myself how good I can be. And that should be enough. Getting in with the best hand should be my joy. Getting all my chips in the middle way ahead of my opponents should be my reward. The runner runner that takes me down shouldn't matter. The 2 outer that comes again should make no difference. But when it happens too often it does. I am ashamed of the universe. How can there be a God? Would God really let someone who played like that win?

I play some more. Tournaments. Cash games. It makes no difference. It happens. It happens again. It keeps happening. It's different. But it's the same. It's too often. How can luck be so consistent? I've seen it go both ways. These streaks defy common sense. Oh I know the answer. Take a few days off. Come back next week and it will all be fine. The money I can win back but not the time. That's the hidden rake. I don't mind paying it when I'm winning. But when I'm losing I notice it more. The money I can win back but that time is gone forever.