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The Power of Poker leads to 'Kidnapping'
Published: 2005-04-16
 The Power of Poker leads to 'Kidnapping'
April 16, 2005
John Caldwell
Let's say you come home from a night out on the town, and you suddenly find your husband being wrestled into a car, and driven off into the night. You freeze in a mix of panic, and terror, and you run into your home, and call the Police.
The Police come right over, and wind up using a helicopter to find this car, less than two miles from your home. After carefully approaching the house the car is parked in front of, Police get inside to discover...A poker game being played.
That was the case this past Saturday in Rialto, CA which is just east of Los Angeles. It seems a man's buddies needed one more player to get a game going. So, they drove to this man's house, and saw his car pulling up. Once the man was out of the car, they 'kidnapped' him, and took him (very willingly I'm sure) to the poker game right around the corner.
"She didn't know who the guys were," Rialto Sgt. Carla McCullough said. "She was all frantic. She thought her husband had been kidnapped."
The man was a willing participant in this kidnapping, but no one bothered to tell the wife, who freaked out, and called Police. The Police put an all out rush on, and used a lot of their resources to find this man looking for a poker game with his buddies.
"We were treating it as a big deal," said McCullough. "But we get to the car, and the guy says, 'These are my friends — they just wanted me to play poker.'"
No charges were filed, but a great lesson was learned. Poker can move mountains, and helicopters.
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Playing Poker, The 'Better Player' Theory Takes Some Hits
Published: 2005-04-28
 Playing Poker, The 'Better Player' Theory Takes Some Hits (18.04.2005)
One of the few universal truths about games that involve both skill and chance is that most players
overrate their own abilities and underrate their opponents’ skills.
This doesn’t occur because people with huge egos tend to drift into the games arena, although
certainly most of us have run into our share of opponents who at least act like they think
Einstein, Feynman, Bobby Fisher, Stu Ungar, and MacGyver were real or fictional idiots in
comparison to their own brilliance, especially when it comes to games.
Leaving these misguided folks — who also tend to overrate the importance of skill at games in the
overall scheme of things on Earth — aside, we still almost all have a difficult time evaluating our
relative strength in games like poker, for a number of reasons.
First, when you play a game that involves both chance and skill, it’s easy to blame luck when you
lose and to credit skill when you win. Even if we’re capable of spotting our own mistakes, most of
us have selective memories about how many good cards we caught, or about how lucky we were that an
opponent had a king-high flush at the exact same time we had an ace-high flush.
We Don’t See Our Own Errors
Even more significant, though, is the fact that most of the time we are not capable of spotting our
own mistakes. Indeed, that’s practically true by definition, because if we knew we were making a
mistake, we wouldn’t make the play in the first place.
Occasionally, the sequence of cards or bets that follows a mistake teaches us that we overlooked
something, and so even though we make the mistake, we learn about it shortly thereafter. More
commonly, though, we’re unaware that we’re making errors and we stay unaware thereafter.
Our poker ego develops further when we see our opponents make errors that we know we wouldn’t have
made. It doesn’t take too many of these to convince us that we are more skilled than the blundering
opponent. We know we wouldn’t make the mistake, we see the opponent make it, and presto, it’s
obvious that we play better than the opponent does.
The gaping hole in this apparently logical deduction hides behind the blind spot we have for our
own mistakes. Poker is a very complex game: Let’s say, for sake of argument, that there are 100 key
concepts that someone needs to understand to play poker at the expert level (the actual number
might be 20 or 1,000, depending on how narrowly you want to define “key concept”).
Are Equal Players Really Equal?
Let’s further assume that two reasonably capable, but nonexpert, players are facing each other in a
ring game, and that these two players, via the sort of remarkable coincidence that writers and
teachers rely on so heavily, are equally skilled; that is, each of them rates to win at exactly the
same rate over the long run in a particular game. Let’s say each is good enough to win half a big
bet per hour in the local $10-$20 hold’em game.
Even given this hypothetical status as equally skilled players, it would take a far greater
coincidence — one that would strain credulity — for each of these two players to have mastered
precisely the same “key concepts.” Although each player might have mastered 70 of the 100 key
concepts, it’s highly unlikely that they would be the same 70.
Player A understands concepts 1-70, and Player B understands concepts 21-90. This means Player A
will observe Player B screwing up whenever concepts 1-20 are involved, and Player B will observe
Player A screwing up whenever concepts 71-90 are involved. Neither will notice an error when
concepts 91-100 come into play, and each will grudgingly admire the other’s play when concepts 21-
70 are required.
As a result, each of these two equally skilled players will emerge from their competition fully
convinced that he is vastly more skilled than his opponent. Put another way, we all have blind
spots around concepts we have yet to master, but we don’t have blind spots for concepts we
understand that our opponents do not.
“So what?” you might say. How does knowing that we likely overrate our own abilities and underrate
our opponents’ abilities affect our results? We’re still going to play as well as we possibly can,
after all.
An Incorrect Image Leads to Incorrect Play
Actually, this simple aspect of human nature can and does have a dramatic impact on our results, in
any number of hugely important ways. Let’s take a look at some of the cold equations, some of the
things that can happen when you think you’re a lot better than you really are. This could cause you
to do the following (among other things):
1. Join, or stay too long in, a game in which you are overmatched. After all, if you see four or
five players you “know” yourself to be more skilled than sitting in the game, there’s money to be
won, right? There certainly isn’t much money available to be won if your skill level is last and
least amongst those at the table. You can (and probably will) blame poor results on bad luck for a
while, perhaps a very long while — unless you’re willing to re-examine some of your fundamental
assumptions about how well both you and your opponents play.
2. Change your playing style to something that’s suboptimal. Suppose, for example, that you believe
yourself to be so much more talented than your opponents that you “know” you can play more starting
hands than they do (or than is generally considered to be wise), because you “know” you can outplay
your opponents after the flop and/or get away from these marginal hands when they’re in trouble. If
you truly understood the reality — if you knew that in fact you play worse than average after the
flop, rather than better — you would change your starting-hand selection considerably, and would
probably enjoy much better (or at least “less worse”) results.
You don’t need to have a hugely overinflated opinion of your own game to get into trouble. You can
suffer similar consequences if you have a realistic view of your own abilities but disrespect your
opponent. One of the primary examples of a poor playing-style decision caused by overrating your
own abilities happens primarily in tournaments.
I’m going to write much more extensively on this topic in the near future, but for now, just think
about all the times either you or someone you know decided to throw a hand away in a tournament
situation, even though you realized you were getting reasonable pot odds or situational odds.
Tournament Stars Give Too Much Away
Why do those with overinflated poker egos throw these hands away? Because they don’t want to gamble
for all or most of their stack, even when they are a slight favorite. “Knowing” that their opponent
will almost certainly make some huge error later, they want to wait for a situation in which they
are an even bigger favorite, or a situation in which they can use their superior skill to outplay
their opponents.
The problem with this kind of thinking is that it causes many players to throw so many hands away
that they are no longer outplaying their opponents. Instead, they are handing chips over to
their “less talented” opposition, content in the knowledge that they will be able to outplay them
later.
Naturally, if you find yourself up against anyone, big-name star or otherwise, who seems reluctant
to play without a big edge, you can and should do everything you can to take advantage of it. Such
players are more susceptible to big-bet bluffs and will be less likely to call all-in bets,
although when one of them finally does call, you can be sure it’s with something very strong.
You don’t have to do this very often to hand over whatever skill edge you might actually own, and,
of course, if you actually don’t own a skill edge, you’re really taking the worst of it. I firmly
believe this is one (but certainly not the only) reason why our last two world champions have been
unknowns. If the great players hand over too many “gambling” pots to the unknowns without a fight,
they’re throwing away much, if not all, of their advantage. Does it really matter if you’re skilled
enough to extract an extra bet if the knowledge of that skill leads you to hand over extra pots
uncontested?
This problem is rarely apparent, because the failure to engage in these gambling-type hands doesn’t
immediately impact one’s stack size. A little later in the tournament, though, the “great” player
finds himself short-stacked, and forced to gamble because the blinds are too large in relation to
his stack. When the player loses in this situation, he goes home thinking, “I wasn’t very lucky
once I got short-stacked,” instead of realizing that if he’d played his cards right, he wouldn’t
have gotten into that short-stacked position to begin with.
The next time you think that owning a big poker ego is a harmless way to have some fun and/or feel
good about yourself, take a step back and start recognizing all the situations in which a more
accurate understanding of what’s true could pay off.
Information von Richard Honegger
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