Tuesday, April 08, 2008

"I think you're..."




Mike Caro says that the way to profit is to be fun and jovial at the poker table. People who have played with him say that he makes it enjoyable to lose to him, and he capitalizes on that; people rebuy and then lose more to him. Good for him. But I can't make that work. I'm so naturally quiet and reserved that I can't sustain that kind of image.

So I go for the opposite: near silence, not much movement, try to give away as little information as possible. I used to say that Chris Ferguson was my model for table conduct, but I'm not quite as purely robotic as he is. (For an amazing look at how perfectly he has mastered the mechanics of disguising tells, see this 22-second video clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmPa7gRcMdg.) I also don't go for the sunglasses or the cowboy getup. So I think it's more accurate to say that I'm like Allen Cunningham--not in terms of playing style or skill, but demeanor at the table: saying very little, composed, unflappable, completely neutral facial expression, but not hiding the way that Ferguson does.

A few days ago at the Palms two friends came in and took adjacent empty seats. They were drinking heavily, having a good ol' time. They complained that the table was too quiet, not fun enough. Predictably, they were both playing very loose games. I was playing my usual tight-aggressive game, listening to some tunes, sipping my bottle of water, observing everything but not getting involved in the table talk. I was in seat 10; they were in 6 and 7, so I was directly facing them.

At one point, I called the pre-flop raise from one of them with an A-10 offsuit. The flop came something ragged like J-7-3. I checked. My talkative opponent instantly shot out a bet, without even stopping to think. That, combined with the unscary board (and the knowledge that most flops miss most starting hands) made me reasonably confident that he couldn't call a check-raise. So I pushed all-in.

The expression on his face instantly told me that he was going to fold--that hang-dog look that wordlessly says "I've been caught; I can't call." His buddy, in violation of every rule and convention about not talking about the hand in progress and one-player-to-a-hand, couldn't keep quiet. He said, "Dude, he's wearing headphones, he's only drinking water, he doesn't say a word, and he hasn't played a hand in half an hour. I think you're screwed."

His friend folded.

So even if I can't pull off Mike Caro's jocularity, there are other ways of winning chips at the table. All you have to do is convince opponents that they're screwed.

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