Player's Stories

Learning to live with Pot-limit Omaha
By David Young

The first poker game that I ever played was Hold'em. I loved it. It was quick, full of bluff and counter-bluff and best of all for a beginner, there were only a relatively small number of starting hand combinations. This meant that I could find literature describing hand selection and felt that I was approaching the subject academically, rather than by trial and error. I quickly improved and found that I could 'hold my own'. I felt that my skills were developing and that I would be a significant winner at the game in the long term.

Then one day, a cloud appeared on the horizon. I learned of another game called Omaha: 'The game of the future'. I watched it and was struck by how slow it seemed and how difficult it was to evaluate starting hands. Everyone seemed to enjoy it except me. However, the pots were larger. If only I knew how to capitalise on this!

I tried to learn by playing and got butchered every time. I resorted to folding my cards without looking at them if I was in early position. I could not understand what hands were worth playing in those spots. One day, in despair, I drafted a letter that I was planning to fax to Mike Caro. In it, I wrote of my ability to win at Hold'em and how my skill at putting people on hands did not seem to count for much at Omaha. I wrote that the main skill seemed to be in hand selection and that even though I was tighter than most players, I kept thinking that I should be even tighter still.

I never sent the letter. A strange thing happened instead. As I looked at what I had written, I felt as though I had found the key to my problems. From then on, I used to say to myself 'I don't know all the answers, but at least I know some of the questions.' I also made a vital discovery. The best way to improve is not to identify the winners and copy what they do. Instead, watch where the money is lost. See what kinds of hands and what situations lose the most money, then run don't walk in the opposite direction! The best teachers I had in the game were the people who lost the most money!

Suddenly I found that I was a winner in the game and I have never looked back. The strange part is that I still have no real affection for it. It is like work. I go in to the casino (office), I sit at the poker table (my desk), I play against my opponents (co-workers) and a few hours later I leave with my winnings (wages). Nothing that happens at the game excites me as much as a good game of hold'em.

Since my conversion from loser to winner came quite effortlessly, I keep worrying that others will catch up and I will have to get a full time job in the real world. Somehow it never happens like that. So why are others not improving? The answer is that not everyone is as motivated by money as they think. Most players think that they want to win, but in fact for many, the primary motivation is the avoidance of pain. Losing money is only one source of pain. Changing their minds about how well they play and changing their beliefs about the correct way to approach the game may be more painful to some players than losing money, especially if they have lots of it.

So for now, I will continue at my work, subversively hoping for the return of pot-limit hold'em. Perhaps I should not bite the hand(s) that feed me!