Look Out, Vegas, Here I Come!

By Daniel Negreanu

I can still remember my first trip to Las Vegas as if it were yesterday. I imagine it's something I'll never forget. I'd just turned 21 and was going to show those Vegas rocks what I was made of — so I thought!

Back in Toronto I had the game all figured out, and nothing could stop me. I pounded and pounded while most of the players took the beating, just like an anvil. I was used to controlling the game, always the aggressor.

I was convinced that there was no defense to my form of power poker — and boy was I wrong! In Toronto my opposition basically consisted of calling stations for the first couple of years. I'd bet and they'd call. If I got raised, it was obvious what they had, as few of them were capable of making fancy plays. I foolishly assumed that was how it was going to be the rest of my life. I'd bet and they'd either fold or call with a worse hand.

So, here I was, 21 and ready to take on the world with my healthy $3,000 Vegas bankroll. My trip was scheduled for a week, so $3,000 was more than enough to get me through it if I had a bad run or something — yeah, right! It didn't last two days. Unfortunately, I had borrowing power, so I could drown myself further during the rest of my stay.

The minute I got to Vegas, I sat down in a $20-$40 game during the World Series of Poker in ‘96. Some 20 hours later, I decided to call it a night. It was about 4 a.m. when I quit, and the game still looked healthy, sevenhanded. Then I noticed something strange. When I returned from the bathroom and was on my way up to my room, there wasn't a game in sight. It couldn't have been more than two minutes, and the game had already broken up. Coincidence? I think not. It dawned on me right then and there that for the first time in my life, I was the sucker!

I went back to my room and started to ponder the differences between the games back home and the games in Vegas. It appeared as though the players in Vegas raised with nothing every hand. I'd raise and they'd reraise with A-8 suited. That never happened to me back home. If I was raised back home, I was sure that it was by aces, kings, queens, or A-K. So, why were these Vegas players so crazy? Why wouldn't they just behave and let me do what I want to do? It just doesn't work that way, that's why. My opponents had picked up on my play and knew what I was doing. I was raising too many hands. In Toronto it didn't matter as much, because the players didn't have a defense against me. In Vegas, though, they'd seen this act before and knew just how to deal with me. By reraising me, they forced me to make a hand, and it's tough to win like that. You just can't hit that many flops in hold'em.

So, the whole night went something like this: I'd raise and get reraised, and check and fold on the flop. Or, sometimes I'd get stubborn and try some silly play on my opponent with nothing. It hardly, if ever, worked. When I did it, I usually found myself up against the nuts — how discouraging.

The rest of the week didn't go much better. My mind was already in a negative state, and I just didn't know what adjustments I needed to make.

As for my dream of playing in a WSOP event, that would have to wait until the next year or the year after that. It was a rude awakening, but it was just what I needed, as it turned out. It helped me realize that there is more to poker than I thought, and that I am not the only one who can play aggressively.

The bottom line was, I needed more knowledge, experience, and discipline if I was going to make it anywhere in the poker world.

Knowing that didn't make the flight home any easier, though. The fact remained that I had just gone broke, and I had some debts to worry about. It was a tough time for me. I loved poker, but that trip was demoralizing. Learning that Vegas lesson was a painful experience.

Eventually, though, I licked my wounds and was back to winning in my $10-$20 game back home, but I always had thoughts of Vegas and how I'd do things differently next time. I did some reading on the game, and was constantly "thinking" poker. The confidence I'd lost eventually resurfaced, and I was ready to take them on again.

Still, though, all the reading and thinking I did at home just wasn't enough. The only way I was going to learn to beat that $20-$40 game was with experience, by learning from my mistakes and making them less often. Over the next year, I went back to Vegas several times with very little success. It was a recurring cycle: I'd build up a bankroll in my Toronto game, and deposit it in the $20-$40 game at the Mirage — over and over again. With each trip, however, I learned something. My results slowly got better until, finally, I figured it out! It must have taken me five or six trips before I was a favorite in those games, but it felt very good when it happened. Finally, I really knew everything about poker (now that's a whole new story)!

One of the toughest tasks for a poker player is adjusting to a new game, be it stakes or form of poker. It can be very discouraging or it can drive you to improve. It was both for me. If you are considering moving up in limits or learning a new game, don't be too hard on yourself. Don't expect to be a favorite right away, it's too much pressure. Just make sure that you can afford to lose the money you are risking. I know, it sounds silly coming from me, since I did it over and over again. It's a lot like your father telling you not to smoke as he exhales another mushroom cloud of smoke! "Do as I say, not as I do." Seriously, though, it's good advice. It took me longer than it should have to become a favorite in those games, because I was playing my case money all the time. It's a lot tougher to "make the right play" when it may mean that you will be out of action. Inevitably, you will become more emotionally attached to each hand, when it should be quite the opposite.