I’m sure any poker player worth his chips could, at very least, sing the chorus to that old song by Kenny Rogers titled The Gambler. You know… “You gotta know when to hold’em, know when to fold’em, know when to walk away and know when to run.” It is the sage advice of an old rounder to a young nugget trying to make his way in the rough and tumble world of gambling.
As detailed in an article some time ago, it is my position playing poker is not gambling per sé but is closer to investing in the stock market. In gambling, one places a wager prior to an event on the outcome of that event. The event – be it craps, blackjack, roulette or the dreaded slots – then occurs and the bettor either collects the winnings or more likely, endures the loss. In the stock market one can gather knowledge regarding the stock in which one has an interest prior to placing money in the “investment.” Also in poker, one gets to see their first two cards (such as looking into a stock) prior to placing a wager, not taking into account the blind structure, of course. At that time, then, the investor/bettor decides whether to “invest” money in the stock/hand and ultimately can reap the rewards of a good investment/winning hand or sustain the loss.
So goes the world of a poker; it is of course a great thing to walk away a winner. To have ‘invested wisely’ and thus depart with more moolah than one came with is always the goal of a serious poker player. Throughout this “Pretzel Logic” (You know, logic that is like a pretzel: Nothing is in a straight line but when you get to the end there’s a finished product), the song referred to at the beginning of this piece goes ‘round and ‘round in the head. You’ve got to “…know when to walk away…” Knowing when to depart is, especially when a winner, one of the most ethereal, nebulous, hard-to-grasp concepts and difficult-to-execute actions in all of pokerdom.
I decided to try one of the bigger games offered at a Black Hawk casino. To protect the guilty (me) the casino will go un-named but I thought it would be a challenge and an opportunity to get closer to Las Vegas style and level of games and begin to hone skills for the WSOP coming up in summer (I plan/hope to attend this year). I bought in, sat down and began to observe the players at the table; their styles, betting patterns, any tells which might be available, all that mental note stuff we’ve addressed in these columns over the years. It quickly became evident this was a loose/semi-aggressive table with on average, seven players seeing the flop. This was even when there was a preflop raise and reraise! It had all the signs of being a profitable game for this old shark. Seven players seeing the flop…every time? Rarely ever do that many players simultaneously get good, playable hands. This should be a goldmine.
And so it was; for several hours or so I was in top form and by the time I stood up to take my first break I was ahead of my original buy-in by 2½ times! A nice profit, indeed. And here’s where that *&#@ song comes back to haunt me; did I pack it all in, collect my winnings and depart? Noooooooo. I returned to the table and continued to play. By then, several players had been eliminated to be replaced by others whose styles and temperament changed the entire dynamics of the game. And the most difficult thing to admit, especially here in print for the entire world to see, was the fact at several occasions my brain said “Hey! Get up and go while you still are a winner.” Did I listen to that wise ol’ brain? Noooooooo.
Long story short, I gave back all that I had won and even some of my original buy-in, ending the night in the hole. Phooey! What began as an upward swing in the ‘stock market’ and a situation that afforded every opportunity to depart a winner, took a nose-dive and wiped out not only the potential profits but some of the original capital investment as well. And I do mean ‘potential profit’, because there is no real, actual profit in the game until you take it, until you sell out the stock in which you’ve invested, until you rack up all those chips and cash out. Until you do that, those chips are nothing but potential: Potential bets, potential investments, potential profits.
So I end this parable hoping that you, the poker playing reader can, at the opportune time stand up, rack ‘em up, and depart. There are no reasons to run away while playing in Colorado’s poker emporiums, but there ARE times when you must “…know when to walk away.” Walk away a winner.
