Two different experiences over the weekend, both examples of why both patience and playing a solid game are virtues in the limit game.
Friday night, I decided on a change of pace; instead of heading up to Artichoke Joe’s, as has been my usual Friday-night habit, I decided that I’d been finding some good games at Garden City and that I wanted to give the Friday-night scene there a try.
Surprisingly, I got a seat almost right away, an experience that I was not used to. (It seems that the spread limit games there, being the closest to no limit, are more popular, despite the higher cost.)
As soon as i posted, I had both the good experience of getting good starting hands, and the bad experience of getting drawn out on. In the first 5 minutes, I was down $100, and in the first 30 minutes, I was down $200.
But also in that first 30 minutes, I recognized that this was the perfect loose-passive table that, while potentially higher variance, was hugely profitable–if only I stayed within my tight-aggressive game, if only I had the patience to not try to force something to happen, but wait for the game to come to me.
An hour and a half later, I stood up with a $250 profit. Yes, After dropping $200 in the first 30 minutes, I made that back and more, a total of $450, in the next 90 minutes. And when a couple of the fishier players got up, I decided that it was the right time for me as well.
Sunday was a different game. I had planned for a short session, but when I got there, I found a bit of a longer list, and it took about 45 minutes to get seated. It was a similarly loose-passive table, but this time, I was getting almost universally poor starting hands.
Unlike some people, usually easily recognized, I don’t (usually) try to play the poor starting hands, hoping to catch a flop. I’ve seen way too many people adopt that strategy (consciously or not) and get, eventually, felted. And so I sat. And waited.
I found today just how fast time can pass in such a situation. Not playing any hands–and I don’t actually like that description; I’m actually “playing” the hand, I’m just not tossing chips in the pot because the correct “play” is to muck–doesn’t mean not participating in the game. It’s not long before I’ve identified the loose players, the ones who chase draws–of any sort–the (somewhat) tighter players, etc.
But I don’t drag one single pot in the first hour, and just one in the first two hours. I’m not down all that much, however, because my chips haven’t been risked when I’ve not been a favorite, or at least had the right odds to play.
Before I know it, afternoon has been lost and the evening hours begin to pass. I think I’m going to get up at 8pm, in time to head home and do laundry, but I’m still down, still playing well (correctly identifying hands and situations), and still think that I can beat the table. Then comes 9pm, and then, finally, 10pm, my final deadline.
Sadly, I’m still not up, but after all that I went through, after eventually winning quite a few pots, but after just not getting enough, enough big pots, and too many draw-outs, I end up down about $100.
What’s nice is that I’m secure in the knowledge that if I played a much looser game, I would have been felted hours ago. Meanwhile, I saw one loose player do six(!) buy-ins of varying amounts. I wished I could have stayed longer, that I did not have to work on Monday. But alas, it was not to be this day. Other than the monetary loss, is was time well-spent, with generally pleasant company and always challenging and changing situations.
There’s always next week.