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POCKET ACES

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Maryann Guberman has been a writer and editor with many gaming publications, including Sports Form, Card Player, Poker World, Player's Panorama and Systems and Methods. She also has written and edited numerous books on gambling.

Aug 02, 2008

You Have Nothing To Fear Except ...

Played against any top pros yet? Have a chance to defend your blind against a legend? Picked up your tournament seat only to see three recent bracelet winners already there? Entering a live big-bucks live poker tournament for the first time in your life?

Yeah, there's a lot about this game that can give you the jitters and it's hardly ever the money -- until you get to the final table I suppose.

Over the years I've had the opportunity to watch numerous newcomers in their tournament debuts. A few of them were totally cool and calm, playing the game as if they'd been in action for years. Others, though, show their concern, their basic fear very clearly. Their lack of mettle comes through via the shakes when they place their chips in the pot, via a noticeable gulping motion when they see their decent hand raised, via constant blinking, via leaning away or into the table, via an accidental spilling of chips. You get the picture. (But if you don't, read one of the very good tells books available on today's poker shelves.)

There's nothing wrong about getting nervous in the beginning. It happens in nearly every kind of new activity. When I was first introduced to rock wall climbing, I managed the first half with ease. But suddenly I couldn't find my next purchase. While I reached for a hold with my hand, my right foot slipped away. I made the grasp successfully but the strain on my muscles burned like a hot fire. (Climbers know that the feet do most of the work.) After gaining some stability, I was frozen for what seemed an eternity. There was no place for my next move. I was stuck; I was nervous; and my dilemma showed because instead of looking up, I was looking down. Both legs were quivering and one arm was shouting at me for my stupidity. I stayed there for a minute, catching my breath, letting the overstretched muscle in my arm relax, willing my legs to settle back and settle down as well. Then I realized this was just a bunch of stepping stones, not an avalanche coming at me. Slowly, I stepped backwards once, then again, until I was able to get a better look at my options. From that point I moved forward, assessing each potential danger and avoiding it, until I succeeded in reaching the top.

This happened years before my first (and sadly last) entry into the World Series of Poker when the same kind of anxiety slammed me into silliness; still the lesson did not carry over. I took my seat at a table that had my back to the rail and as I assessed my opponents, I noticed four of them wearing the famous World Series of Poker championship bracelet.

Oh dear. What was I doing at this table, 5-foot 3-inches of little old me with not a single piece of jewelry against seven strapping guys with steely eyes and sparkling wrists. I folded every hand for the first fifteen minutes. (Remember, this is stud, so that's not a lot of hands.) Soon, though, with the bring-in on my left, I had an ace showing. With the calmness of a shih tzu during a fireworks demonstration, when the decision came around to me I raised. And with that, everybody folded.

That was the last time I showed any nerve. Either those guys had very weak hands or they really believed I had an ace in the hole! It didn't matter. I had found my purchase and was off and running.

It wasn't until a raise against my bet four hours later put me on edge. I'd made a queen-high flush on my first five cards, with the queen showing. The raiser had a pair of threes up. What was I afraid of? A set? A full house?

Even when the It's hard to laydown a queen-high flush against an open pair so I didn't. I was on my way to the river and my last chip. I was nervous, yes, and rightfully so because I was beat, not by a full house but by a king-high flush that wasn't there until the river. (Does the term suck out ring a bell?) The attitude of tension came not from fear or intimidation but from sadness, sadness because I knew this could be (and was) my last hand of the tournament.

But that is another subject altogether. The truth of all this is in the result. In the rock wall situation, nervousness came from a situation. In the tournament situation nervousness came from anticipation of a situation. Big difference.

If you anticipate fear or anxiety or even failure, you will show it.

Inexperience will, in many cases, cause you to be overly concerned about many things. If so, then go with it. Savor it like a friend and talk to it. Soon you will be comfortable with your situation and you will calm down. Days, weeks, maybe months later, you will laugh at your jitters.

Your own lack of experience (or confidence or self image) is the only thing you have to fear. Play enough poker and you have a chance to become a totally new person.

Trust me on this one.